Erik, the Date Phantom
by Lady Rosesong
Summary: POTO meets HITCH. Despite his hideously scarred face, Erik uses his knowledge on romance to help other men. Christine Davis is a magazine writer who believes romance is dead. Can these two find love, even when they've given up hope? EC and MOC
1. Basic Principles

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi everyone! Well, this is new territory for me: writing POTO in a contemporary setting! I've read so many wonderful modern-day POTO stories, that I just wanted to try my hand at one, so here it is! _Erik, the "Date Phantom"_. I know the title sounds corny, but the idea came to me when I was watching the film "Hitch" (I do recommend this movie if you haven't seen it) and I thought "wow! This could work with POTO characters!" so here I am, once again combining two stories to create something unique and original. I do hope you enjoy, and have no fear, "Tapestry" will be continuing on as well. Thanks and please let me know what you think!**

**Story Summery: **Despite his hideously scarred face, Erik uses his knowledge on romance to help other men win the hearts of the ladies they love. Little does Erik realize that he's about to get a shot at romance himself, when he meets Christine Davis, a magazine writer who believes romance is dead. POTO meets "Hitch", set in modern day New York City. EC (of course) plus MOC. Also, in this story, Erik wears a **full mask**...it just seemed to fit his character better.

**Disclaimers: **I DO NOT OWN either Erik, Christine, Meg, or anything that relates to the "Phantom" universe. Nor do I own anything related to the film "Hitch"; this is purely innocent fan fiction.

**Rated T-M **for language and adult content. Rating will be upgraded to an M for later chapters due to sexual content. If you are not of the age that you should be reading such things, then please, do not proceed.

* * *

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Basic Principles_**

My name is Erik Henri…and apparently, I am the perfect man.

Alright, first, let me make this clear: those aren't my words. I don't think of myself as perfect, in fact, I'm the furtherest thing from "perfect", trust me on this. Those words actually come from my clients, and before you start thinking dirty thoughts, let me tell you right now, I don't mean clients in _that_ sense.

I help people, men specifically. I help men who are suffering from a disease which many claim to be incurable: love. And the men who I help are men who lack confidence, understanding, and who basically don't know a thing about women.

Now let me make this clear: the men who I help are in _LOVE_ with a specific woman. I don't help random strangers with learning all the right the things to say and do, just to get a woman in bed with them; heck, there are websites for that sort of thing. No, I help men who are in love, get the attention of the women they love, and keep it. I help men who want to sweep a woman off her feet, men who want a woman to remember them long after they whisper goodnight, men who want to give a woman something to look forward to as she's getting ready for her date. Basically, I help men become everything a woman would want; I help create the perfect man.

I have seven basic principles: seven things that men need to do, in order to become that perfect man. Now of course, there are more than seven things that make a man perfect in the eyes of women, after all, every woman is unique, beautiful, and different, therefore the principles vary from woman to woman. But I have discovered, over the years in my work, that these basic principles overlap with nearly all women.

**Principle #1—LISTEN!** I can not emphasize how important this is. No one likes to think that the person they are talking to isn't listening, especially when you're on the first date. Some people babble when they're nervous, and they'll do this especially if YOU aren't contributing to the conversation. So I always tell my clients to LISTEN to what the lady is saying; you may discover something you have in common, you may find a great conversation topic, but most especially, when you respond to what she's saying, you'll show her that you DO care about what she's thinking.

**Principle #2—SPACE.** Don't ever crowd a woman, especially on your first date. Many women today view themselves as independent, and that's a good thing. When you're out on a date, be sure to provide her with that comfortable space, allowing her to move in, if she so chooses. By doing this, it shows her that you care about her comfort and that you understand she's independent and now and then, needs to keep her space, her own space.

**Principle #3—BODY LANGUAGE.** This principle coincides with #2, which basically says, "Pay attention!" Sometimes the invitation to come into her space is subtle; if you're at the movie theater, and she slowly leans in on your armrest, or cocks her head close to your shoulder, she is probably trying to tell you to put your arm around her. My advice? Begin with laying your arm on the back of her chair; right away, there will be a physical connection. If she continues to lean closer to you, then that is definitely a sign that she wants your arm around her, but DON'T squeeze her to you; rest your arm lightly on her shoulder at first, letting her become used to your touch. Trust me, from that point on, you'll know how much pressure she wants you to apply. Same goes for holding hands; if you're walking side by and side, and she's pushing her hair back over the ear closest to you, and begins walking closer, then that is a sign that she wants you to touch her. Allow your hand to slowly brush against hers, as if by accident at first, and then do it again, only this time, more slowly. If her fingers begin to linger near yours, then that is a sign she wants you to hold her hand, so gently…allow your fingers to entwine with hers, and go from there. As I said before, from that point on, trust your instincts.

**Principle #4—MANNERS.** Don't fall for that bullshit that feminists don't appreciate chivalry. ALL WOMEN ENJOY GOOD MANNERS! And what exactly do I mean by chivalry? Open the door for the lady, be it the cab door, or the restaurant door, always open the door for her, UNLESS she's doing it first! When she opens the door before you, don't try to wrestle it out of her hands; by doing that, you're really sending a message that you don't think she's capable of even tying her own shoes. Be courteous; take her coat, pull out her chair, when leaving, offer to help her with her coat, etc. Being courteous doesn't mean doing everything for her, it simply means offering. Always offer, always ask for permission, don't simply grab her coat off her shoulders; by asking her for her permission, it shows that you do _respect_ her.

**Principle #5—ATTITUDE.** How you behave on your date is going to determine whether you have a second date. You show up flustered, acting nervous, stumbling over your words, she's going to walk away and try to avoid you like the plague. Confidence is key here. Go in with a relaxed attitude! Be attentive, but don't be obsessive. Be charming, but don't be unbelievable. Confident…not arrogant. Confused yet? Trust me, I understand, perhaps better than anyone, how confusing this can be, but if you follow all the other principles, and go in relaxed, ready to have a good time with the woman you admire, the other stuff will just come naturally.

**Principle #6—EYES.** You know that saying, that the eyes are the window into a person's soul? They're not wrong, and a man's eyes can tell a woman EVERYTHING she needs to know about you, in other words, whether she's going to trust herself to be alone in a room with you, ever again. When she's talking, don't look at her mouth, don't look at her body and imagine what she looks like naked...keep eye contact! You're showing her that you're listening, that you care about what she thinks and says. But don't ever stare; staring is just plain creepy. When she looks away, you can _gaze_ at her, softly, admiringly, and when she turns her attention back to you, look away briefly, as if you didn't want her to catch you gazing at her…when in truth, you do. A gaze is so different from a stare; stares are intense, aggressive, and as I said before, downright creepy. A gaze can be soft, and when added with the hint of a smile, it can cause a woman to shiver in a GOOD way. By listening to her, respecting her space, being polite and courteous, paying attention to her body language, and having the right attitude…a gaze will confirm for her, if she hasn't figured it out yet, that you _care_ about her, and that this isn't about sex. She'll feel admired, beautiful, and with any luck, you will be receiving gazes too.

**Principle #7—ROMANCE.** I save this one for last, because in my opinion, it's the most important. It's also the "umbrella" principle to all other principles. Everything feeds into romance, and romance feeds into everything. Let me ask you this question: do you honestly think a woman wakes up and says, "I hope I never meet Prince Charming"? Women want to be romanced, wooed, seduced, and ultimately, be swept off their feet. I find that the smallest gestures can be the most romantic; learning what her favorite flower is, and having a bouquet delivered to her workplace the day after your date, thanking her for the joy of her company. Or cooking her favorite food, or playing her favorite song on a stereo, and asking her to dance. Once you learn what she loves, what makes her smile…then all it takes is a little creative thinking on your part, to become the most romantic person in the world to her.

These are my basic principles, and this is what I teach; three dates is all I need to help you get to what I call the "gold medal round"…that special moment that leads to that first kiss, which many women believe is the one true moment, when they know for certain…that this is love.

My clients call me the "perfect man" because they say I know everything there is to know about women; I know the right things to say, I know the right way to listen, I know the right way to romance her; the thing is though, I'm no different from you. Any man, with the proper training, can become the perfect man…and for those men that aren't sure how to begin? Well, that's where I come in.

My name is Erik Henri…otherwise known as, "the Date Phantom".


	2. All Men are Bastards

**Summery**: Is romance dead? Does Prince Charming exist? Christine highly doubts it...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

_**All Men are Bastards**_

Christine Davis strolled into the office as if it were just another Thursday. She didn't pay any attention to the stares she received, she didn't stop to say "good morning" to Karen, the receptionist, she didn't even bother to stop and explain to her good friend Brian, what she was doing there. She simply walked over to her desk, threw her coat over the rim of her chair, and proceeded to turn on her computer, prepared for another hard day's work at New York's premier lifestyle magazine.

"Well, well, well…look what the catfish dragged in," Brian groaned, as he approached Christine's cubicle. "Correct me if I'm wrong…but I could have sworn you were in Florida, and would be remaining there until Monday?"

Christine's computer finally finished warming up and only then, did she turn her attention to her co-worker and friend. "Glad to see you too, Brian," she greeted, before handing him a jar filled with sand dollars. "Don't say I never got you anything."

Brian took the jar, although his eyes scrutinized the gift. "This is my souvenir? Gosh…you shouldn't have, and I mean that."

Christine only grinned. "It was either that, or a jar filled with alligator teeth," she teased. "Besides, I'll have you know I picked those sand dollars up myself! The vendor who sold me the jar told me they would bring good luck to whoever I gave them to."

Brian put the jar down on Christine's desk and eyed the pretty brunette with skepticism. "Nice try, but it won't work."

Christine wasn't paying any attention; she had already begun to type a few sentences on her computer. "What's not going to work?"

"Your attempts to change the subject!" he interrupted, one of his hands moving over hers and stop her from typing. "Now answer my question, Chris…what are you doing back so early from your vacation?"

Christine sighed and looked up at the man who had been a good friend and mentor to her for the last seven years. Brian was the one who got her the journalism internship when she was in graduate school, who helped her land her job at _New York Chique_, and who had basically become a second father to her. And she knew that he meant well with his concern.

"Truth is…I got bored," Christine sighed with a shrug of her shoulders. "Trust me, it was beautiful, and the weather was absolutely lovely…but…I missed home."

Brian's eyes narrowed at these words. "I believe you when you tell me that you missed home…but it's FLORDIA, Chris! And in case you haven't noticed, it's the middle of November, in New York City, meaning that winter will be invading at _any_ second! I mean, weren't you staying at some seaside resort, that had snorkeling and surfing?"

Christine turned her attention back to her computer. "I neither surf nor snorkel, so there was no point in being there. Besides, I like winter; it's unnatural to be someplace where in mid November you can still walk around in shorts."

Brian rolled his eyes. "You know what I think?" he asked, without even bothering to see if she had listened. "I think you simply came back because you got bored…of being there, by _yourself_."

Christine froze at the man's words, before turning and casting her friend a filthy look. "I did not get bored because I was by myself," she retorted, glaring all the more as he grinned back at her. It was one of those smiles that older people gave younger people that said, _I know better than you do!_ Plus, she was not prepared to get into another argument over her love-life…or lack thereof. "Florida…or any tropical place for that matter is just not for me," she muttered, before resuming her typing once more on the keyboard.

"Fine," Brian murmured, knowing that he had struck a nerve. "Well, the next time the magazine orders you to take a vacation, and it happens to be someplace warm, pass it on to me. Susan is begging that I take her to Jamaica one of these days."

Christine grinned at the mention of Brian's wife. "How is she?"

Brian couldn't help but grin, and quickly dug out a small, black photograph from his wallet. "Here's the most recent picture," he said with deep pride.

Christine took the photo from his hands and gasped as she looked at the ultrasound. "Oh Brian, how wonderful! Do you know the gender?"

Brian shook his head. "Susan wants to be surprised, although I have a strong feeling it's going to be a boy," he grinned. "She's only three months along, but she wants to go someplace warm before she 'turns into a heifer'," he explained. "Her words, not mine."

Christine giggled and handed the picture back to him. "Have you shown it to Meg yet? She always goes ga-ga over baby photos."

Brian's smile fell at the mention of their boss, and Christine took immediate notice. The amusement and light-heartedness that had been in her eyes and in her voice, disappeared completely, at the grim look Brian was giving her. "What happened?"

Brian sighed and looked down at the floor. "Meg's not in the office today…"

Christine rose to her feet at this piece of news. Meg Giry was the editor-in-chief to _New York Chique, _but she also happened to be Christine's best friend from college. The two of them had been through a lot together, and Christine knew her friend's habits. Meg hated missing work; even when she wasn't feeling well, Meg made an appearance for at least part of the day, until Christine could finally coax her to go home. Only one thing would keep Meg from coming in to work, and Christine felt the dread build in the pit of her stomach. "Is she at home?" she asked, already knowing answer. Christine already had her coat on before Brian could even finish nodding his head. Without another look, Christine grabbed her purse and immediately exited the office, hailing a cab as soon as she got outside, and telling the driver to step on it.

* * *

Christine sighed as she hit the buzzer on the intercom for the fourth time. If it was taking Meg this long to answer, it had to be _really_ bad. She was about to hit the buzzer for a fifth time, when a groggy voice filled the small speaker box in front of her.

"Who is it?"

Christine felt her heart break as she heard the obvious sounds of despair in her friend's voice. Meg had obviously been crying, and it sounded as though her nose was blocked, and her throat was soar. _Good thing I got the essentials_.

"Meg? It's me."

There was a pause, and then a small gasp filled the speaker box. "C-c-chris? W-what are you doing back—"

"We can get to that later," Christine interrupted. "Can I come up?"

Christine remembered how last time this had happened, she had to coax Meg into finally buzzing her up; her friend was so upset that she didn't want anyone to see her. However, much to Christine's relief, no further questions were asked, or protests given. A loud, irritating buzz, filled the small breezeway that Christine stood inside, and she was immediately given access into the fancy, upscale, apartment building.

Christine didn't waste her time with the elevator; for a fancy Central Park West residence, the darn thing had the bad habit of stalling. She took the stairs and ran up the steps, once again thankful that Meg only lived on the fourth floor, instead of the tenth. Upon arriving, Christine immediately noticed the apartment door open, and her friend standing in the hallway, a red fleece blanket wrapped tightly around her thin shoulders.

"Hey," Christine murmured, happy to see her friend, but wishing the circumstances were different.

"Oh Chris…" Meg wailed, holding her arms out, to which Christine immediately went into, hugging the girl tightly to her.

"Sshh…it's ok, it's ok," Christine softly whispered, her hold never loosening as Meg buried her face against Christine's shoulder and sobbed. "Come on, let's get inside and you can tell me everything."

Meg mutely nodded her head, took a deep breath, and led Christine back inside her apartment. Once in, Christine knew exactly what to do. She had a small plastic sack with her, and she immediately placed one of the items from the sack in Meg's freezer, before going over to Meg's stove and putting the teakettle on.

"I got you some cold medicine, and those lemon throat drops that I know you like," she murmured as she took two mugs out of one of Meg's cabinets, and dropped in two peppermint tea bags. "I also got you some Rocky Road, and dinner is on me," she announced, showing Meg two different take-away menus. "Chinese or Turkish?"

Meg had already gone over to the large couch that filled a good portion of her living room, and had plopped down, wrapping the blanket up even tighter around her small, frail body. "I'm not hungry," she muttered, her gaze turning towards the large glass windows that looked out over Central Park.

Christine shook her head, knowing this routine by heart. Meg was a very beautiful woman; she had long, curly, reddish-gold hair that reminded Christine of new, shiny pennies. Her smile was infectious, her teeth the perfect shade of white that would make her the poster-child for any dental group. Her skin was flawless, her eyes the color of emeralds, and she carried herself with such grace that she reminded Christine more of a ballerina, than the editor-in-chief to a major magazine company.

Meg was also one of the sweetest people that Christine knew. She was kind, generous, outgoing, and treated everyone fairly. Even though she was Christine's boss, she never once treated Christine or any of the other writers at _New York Chique_, as people lesser than equals. And it was this sweet nature that Christine truly believed made Meg an easy target for assholes.

The kettle let out its cry, and Christine quickly poured them both a piping hot cup of peppermint tea, before joining her friend on the couch. It was at this moment that Christine got a good look at her friend. _Just as I feared_, she thought to herself. Meg's face was a bright shade of red, and the skin around her eyes and under nose looked swollen and puffy from her crying and sniffling. Her hair was hanging limply off her shoulders, and it looked as if she had lost a few pounds. _She's skinny enough as it is, she doesn't need to stop eating…_

"Drink this," Christine softly urged, handing the mug over to Meg.

Meg glanced at the mug, and shook her head. "I have a drink," she muttered, turning her gaze back towards the window.

Christine rolled her eyes, and put the mug down on the couch's end table, before grabbing the open wine bottle that Meg had been referring to, and taking it back into the kitchen.

"Hey!" Meg protested when she realized what Christine was doing. "I was drinking that!"

"Not anymore," Christine dismissed, before returning to the couch. "Alcohol is the last thing you need at this moment, especially with your cold."

Meg made a face. "I don't have a cold."

"You always get a cold when you're upset," Christine argued, before once again urging her friend to take the mug. "You need to drink something hot, and then we are going to get you something to eat."

Meg didn't have the strength to argue, and she knew her friend was right. "Before you ask, it happened yesterday," she sadly whispered, before taking the mug from Christine's hands.

Christine simply nodded her head. "Tony?"

Meg took a small sip from her mug and felt her body tremble with another wave of sadness at the mention of her new ex-boyfriend. "Yes."

Christine felt her jaw clench just slightly. Tony was a male underwear model; that alone should have been a warning sign. Meg had met him after a photo shoot he had done for the magazine, and the two of them hit it off right away. He was tall and handsome, and seemed to resemble a statue of a Greek god. Christine wasn't exactly sure when they had started dating, but she knew it had been for a while, a few months at the very least. Christine saw through Tony the second she met him at a dinner party that Meg was throwing. He flirted with every woman there, including herself. He learned all too quickly how close Christine was to Meg, and stopped his antics around her, or whenever she was watching him, but Christine had learned from a past argument, one that had nearly ruined her friendship with Meg, that she was not meant to "interfere" with her friend's love life. So Christine bit her lip, although it pained her deeply, and prayed every night that Tony would realize what a great woman he had, and not do anything to screw it up.

Apparently, Tony never came to that realization.

"Asshole," Meg muttered, taking another sip of her tea. "Bastard didn't even have the decency to break up with me in person."

Christine felt pride swell in her chest as she listened to her friend curse Tony's name. Perhaps the healing would go faster this time? "Not the answering machine?"

Meg nodded her head, and Christine rolled her eyes. "You're right, he is an asshole," she grumbled.

Meg smiled weakly at her friend, but it was quickly replaced by a sad frown. "You don't have to do that, you know."

Christine paused her sipping, and lowered her mug, her brow furrowed with confusion. "Do what?"

"Pretend that you never once thought Tony was a jerk," she sighed. "I know you Chris, I know what you're thinking when I look into your eyes. I know that you thought Tony was a waste of my time two seconds after you met him…" she placed her mug on the end table and gathered the red blanket around her shoulders. "I just wish I had listened to you…"

Christine put her own mug down and reached out to take Meg's hands in hers. "I've been wrong about people before," she said with a caring smile. "And…while I won't deny, Tony was not one of my favorites, I did want him to make you happy, and every day, I hoped and prayed that he would."

Meg groaned and turned her head towards the window once more. "So did I…but apparently 'banging' the editor-in-chief to one of New York's top selling magazines wasn't enough; I wasn't pretty enough, or thin enough, or wealthy enough—"

"You know that's not true," Christine interrupted. "You're beautiful, you're successful, and don't you dare start thinking that you're fat," Christine warned. "I could snap you like a toothpick."

Meg found herself smiling at Christine's words. "Once again, another example of why your column is so successful."

Christine was glad her friend was smiling, and she could see the headline for her next column: _All Men are Bastards and Why Women are Better Off Without Them_. "Well, what do you expect from 'the Happy Single'?"

Meg giggled at Christine's words, wishing that she had her friend's strength. Christine wrote a column on being a single woman living in New York, and offering advice to other women who were single, empowering them to embrace their singleness, instead of fearing it. It had quickly become one of the favorites of the magazine, and coined Christine the penname, "the Happy Single".

Christine smiled at her friend's laughter, and rose from the couch. "Let's order Turkish; I don't know about you, but I'm craving a chicken kebab with extra hummus."

Meg smiled, so glad that her friend had come back early from her vacation and was there to comfort her. "Sounds good," she murmured, but her smile slowly began to fade as the sad memories once again returned. "I just…I wish I knew—"

"Don't, Meg," Christine interrupted as she dialed the phone number on the take-away menu. "This is not your fault; Tony is the asshole who left you, who broke up with your answering machine. You did nothing wrong, so don't start thinking about what you could have done better. It's his loss, not yours."

Meg nodded her head, trying to allow Christine's words to wash over her. She was just so tired of getting her heart broken; did Prince Charming exist at all?

"It will be here in fifteen minutes," Christine explained, as she settled herself back down on the couch. She noticed that her friend was deep in thought, and Christine reached out to take the young woman's hand in her own once more, prepared to say whatever was needed to convince Meg that Tony did not deserve her tears.

However, what Meg did say took Christine completely by surprise.

"Have you heard of this guy called 'the Date Phantom'?"

Christine's eyes widened at Meg's words. "Um…a little bit, why do you ask?"

Inwardly, Christine was groaning. She had a good idea at what Meg was going to say. Christine loved Meg dearly, but she knew that one problem her friend had, was the fear of being single for any great period of time. Meg was one of those women that felt she needed to have a boyfriend in her life in order to feel she had a purpose. _Ok, that's slightly harsh,_ Christine inwardly reprimanded. Christine knew that Meg was a strong woman, she just needed the confidence. She truly believed that the thing that would be most beneficial for Meg was to be single for a while; there had just been too many bad boyfriends, with too many bad break-ups. Meg needed time to heal, and to heal without a man in her life.

"Well, I've only heard a few things," Meg murmured. "That he helps people find the right person, men mostly, but…I thought that perhaps, if I knew who he was, I could ask him to help—"

"First of all," Christine interrupted. "We don't even know if this guy is in fact, a guy. Second, no one we know has actually met the so-called 'Date Phantom', it's all been stories that we've heard by others who knew someone, who knew someone else, that received help. So how do we know that this man or woman does, in fact, exist?"

Meg's brow furrowed. "You think he…or she…is made up?"

Christine shrugged her shoulders. "I'm just saying that if there is such a person out there, I would think he, or she, would be advertising like crazy in the Times. Imagine all the money they would make! But as far as I'm aware, there are no ads, so how are people finding this person?" she leaned back on the couch and turned her own face towards the window. "You ask me, it's just another urban legend, like alligators in the sewer."

Meg nodded her head, although a part of her wanted to believe in the possibility of such a person existing. "Shame," she sighed. "It would have been nice to have someone set a person up on a proper date with a proper man."

"Trust me, Meg. Your prince will come," Christine smiled. "On a white charger, too. And it will happen, because you want it to."

Meg grinned all the more at Christine's words. "Thanks…and I know what you think, that being single isn't so bad, and you're right, it's not, it's just…I don't want to end up bitter and alone, totally giving up on romance and fairy tales—"

Meg stopped herself as she realized what she was doing. She slowly lifted her eyes to Christine's and felt her cheeks flood with color as she saw the surprised look in her friend's pretty blue eyes.

Christine, however, immediately tried to cover up her own pain with a joke. "Hey, I can't blame you; after all, ending up like _me_ is a fate worse than death!"

Meg wasn't laughing. "Chris, I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't worry about it," Christine interrupted, grateful that she heard the buzzer ringing on the apartment's intercom. "Ah! Food's here! I'll be right back," she grinned, turning and heading down to the front door, her head held high, and her heart trying desperately to keep Meg's painful, yet truthful words, from penetrating too deeply.

* * *

The intercom inside his penthouse buzzed while he was lying back in his favorite leather chair, his eyes closed as he listened to the music of Beethoven sweep through the sound system of his home.

With a somewhat weary sigh, he rose from the chair and pushed the pause button on his stereo, before answering the intercom. "Yes?"

"Hi, Mr. Henri, it's Derek!"

Erik felt a small smile pull at his lips at the sound of the man on the intercom. Derek Fenton had been one of his more recent clients; he was short and balding, and was deeply in love with Patricia Carpenter, his boss' secretary. Erik had done his duty, he helped Derek learn how to relax when in Patricia's presence, he helped him grow confidence in himself, and by listening to Patricia's conversation one evening over dinner, Derek had learned that both he and Patricia shared a love for Shakespeare, and with Erik's help, Derek was able to surprise Patricia with a private performance of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" in Central Park.

"It's good to hear you, Derek," Erik replied, his voice a deep, rich baritone. "How is Patricia?"

Derek could not suppress the happiness in his voice. "I proposed to her last night," he explained. Erik smiled; he could hear the other man's grin.

"And?" he asked, although he knew the answer. Derek was most sincere when expressing his affection for Patricia. Erik always tested and screened his clients before agreeing to help them, and Derek was one of the best men he had ever met. Derek just needed a confidence boost; he already had the creativity to sweep Patricia off her feet.

"She said yes!" Derek joyfully cried, before bursting out into a series of happy shouts, much like Tom Cruise on the Oprah Winfrey Show. "Can you believe it?" Derek asked, after finally calming down. "Me! She said yes to _me_!"

Erik smiled and found himself chuckling at Derek's excitement. He was truly happy for the man. "I can believe it, Derek. You're a good man, and Patricia is very lucky."

"I couldn't have done it without you, Mr. Henri. I owe you big time!"

Erik's smile softened at the man's words, but he shook his head, even though Derek couldn't see him. "You owe me nothing, Derek. Hearing your happiness…that's my reward."

"Mr. Henri, how can I ever repay you? Oh!" Erik could hear the sound of papers being rustled. "I would love to have you come to the wedding! It won't be for another six months, but—"

"Send me an invitation," Erik simply replied. Derek's offer was not the first wedding invite he had received. Almost every past client had sent him a wedding invitation, and Erik's reply was always the same: _Regretfully Decline_. It wasn't that he didn't wish to go, but he had obvious reasons to why he couldn't. At least with the wedding invitation, a gift registry was given, and Erik always went out of his way to get something special for his clients.

"I will do that, I promise," Derek grinned. "Thank you, Mr. Henri, thank you so much!"

"You're more than welcome, Derek," Erik simply replied. "Now go spend your evening with Patricia; I'm sure it's much more welcoming than the downstairs speaker box."

Derek chuckled, thanked Erik again for the millionth time, before finally saying goodbye and leaving. Erik stood in silence for a moment, before reaching out once more, and hitting the play button on his stereo, allowing Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_ to wash over him again.

Another satisfied client; another happy union.

Erik was glad that he had been able to help a good man like Derek Fenton; the world needed more men like Derek Fenton, men who sincerely loved and respected women, as opposed to simply lusting after them. He returned to his chair and eased himself back down, closing his eyes as the music built all around him.

Life had cursed him with a romantic heart, and a horrifying face. At least he had found a way to use his gifts, as opposed to simply wallowing in self-misery. Besides, he had done plenty of that in his younger days. The world needed more men like Derek Fenton, and if his purpose was to help such men become the happy, romantic, and confident men that Derek Fenton had become, then so be it.

With a sigh, Erik reached up and removed his mask, allowing the room's cool air to caress his ravaged flesh. He had accepted his fate long ago; love was not meant for a creature like him, but through the stories of his clients, through the wedding invitations he received, Erik could, at the very least, imagine what that sort of happiness felt like.


	3. Stephen Dulane

**Summery:** Erik takes on a new client, and Christine receives a mysterious invitation...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Stephen Dulane_**

Erik was just getting out of the shower when he heard the phone ringing. He wrapped a towel around his waist, and quickly picked up the cordless phone just outside the bathroom. "Hello?"

"Erik! How are ya, buddy?"

Erik smiled at the sound of the male voice on the other end of the line, even if the guy did call him "buddy", a term Erik despised. "I'm great, Jonathon, and you?"

"I'm just fabulous," Jonathon replied, his voice obviously holding some kind of secret. Erik frowned, wondering what his friend was hiding. Jonathon only sounded that way when he had a surprise up his sleeve. "I think I found you your next client…"

Erik sighed and moved away from the bathroom into his office where he kept a folder on all his clients. He picked up a piece of note paper, prepared to take notes. "I'm ready."

"Name is Stephen Dulane, he's 37, not very tall, a little on the pudgy side, has an obvious receding hairline—"

"Get on with it," Erik growled, rolling his eyes as he listened to his friend list off Stephen Dulane's shortcomings, at least what Jonathon believed were shortcomings.

"Ok, ok, I can see someone didn't wake up on right side of the bed today," Jonathon groaned. "Anyway, Stephen is an accountant for _New York Chique_."

Jonathon paused for dramatic effect at this bit of news…and heard nothing.

"You know…_ New York Chique_? One of the highest selling magazines in the United States?"

Still no response.

"Oh come on! I thought you were the expert on women here? You're telling me you've never heard, let alone read—"

"I know what _New York Chique _is," Erik interrupted. "I'm just waiting for you to get to the important information."

Erik could just sense Jonathon rolling his eyes. "This _is_ important information! Because you won't believe who Stephen Dulane has confessed to being hopelessly infatuated with…"

Nothing.

"Oh come on, Erik! You're not even trying!" Jonathon groaned with exasperation. "Does the name 'Meg Giry' mean anything to you?"

"Meg Giry, the daughter of 1960's French fashion icon, Antoinette Giry, who started _New York Chique _magazine in 1978 when she retired from modeling, and over the years helped it become one of the fastest selling periodicals around the world, and who only three years ago, retired from the magazine and passed the torch onto her daughter, who has made the magazine even more popular due to its many articles that address modern women's issues, as well as stay true to its fashion origins—that Meg Giry?"

It was Jonathon's turn to pause. "I despise you."

Erik couldn't help but laugh. He could just imagine the look on Jonathon's face. "So, I'm guessing that Mr. Dulane believes he is in love with Meg Giry?"

"Believes? The man _is_ in love with her," Jonathon argued. "I know, I know, you always leave everything up for speculation until you meet them, but trust me on this one, ok? In the brief moments when I met the guy, I could tell that this was the real thing."

Erik narrowed his eyes at this. "So now _you're_ the expert?"

Jonathon chuckled. "What can I say? As the man who has the honor of being your first client ever, a few things have rubbed off."

Erik couldn't help but smile at that. Jonathon was a good friend—all right, his only friend, really. The two of them met at Columbia University, and they couldn't be more different than night and day.

Jonathon was handsome, popular, and had big dreams of going all the way to the top on Wall Street. The last thing that people would believe, upon looking at him, was that he had lady problems. Jonathon was a serial one-night-stander; sex came easy, but it was the other stuff that Jonathon was completely clueless about. Soon, Jonathon's bad boy reputation got the better of him, and no girl would ever go near him. Erik came across Jonathon in a bar near campus; the poor guy was drowning his sorrows, while at the same time pathetically hitting on random girls. One girl had a boyfriend, who didn't take Jonathon's attitude too kindly, and before you knew it, a good ole' fashion bar-fight broke out. Erik didn't know why, but he found himself fighting alongside Jonathon—after all, the other guy had four friends, and five against one is never fair, especially when one guy is ready to pass out. Erik did most of the fighting for Jonathon, and amazingly won, although he was aching in pain for about a week. From that moment on, the two became friends, and Erik helped Jonathon turn his life around. Jonathon met a girl named Wendy, a girl who he wanted to make a relationship with, not simply lure into bed. Erik had a few theories on how to romance, woo, and make a woman fall head over heels in love with any man. He used these theories on Jonathon, who nicknamed himself, "the love guinea pig", and amazingly, they worked! Wendy and Jonathon got married shortly after graduation (the only wedding Erik ever attended), and it was Jonathon's idea that Erik use his basic principles, his romantic theories…as a business.

Jonathon was the one responsible for the naming of Erik's alter ego, "the Date Phantom". Jonathon took it upon himself to seek out clients for Erik, and Jonathon had been pretty successful with finding the right men, good men who were serious about romance, not about sex. Perhaps some of Erik's methods had rubbed off on his friend.

"Did you make the arrangements?"

Jonathon grinned. That was always Erik's way of saying he would take on the job. "Yeah, his accounting firm is a few blocks away from the magazine. You remember Grant, who you helped about...six months ago, I think?"

Erik thought back and smiled. "Ah yes, Grant was also an accountant, who was madly in love with Diane, the florist."

"That's right. Well, Grant does some work for my company, and it was him who told me about Stephen. Apparently, Stephen always lights up when there is talk about a meeting at _New York Chique_, and he even volunteers to drop off, and pick up, whatever account information the magazine has…himself! So as you can see, the guy has it pretty bad," Jonathon chuckled.

Erik scribbled a few more notes. "I'm guessing that he is making such a drop off or pick up, today?"

"Man, you are good!" Jonathon laughed. "Yeah, around lunch time, I think. 12, 12:30?"

Erik wrote down the last of his notes. "I'll be there at 1. Have him meet me outside the magazine office."

Erik could just feel Jonathon's grin over the phone. "You got it!" his friend exclaimed, somewhat too enthusiastically. "Man, this is going to be huge! I mean…Meg Giry, Erik! Meg, the heiress of high fashion fortune, Giry! You pull this job off, you're on the map!"

Erik rolled his eyes at Jonathon's words. "Don't start counting your bets. We don't know if this guy is really in it for her…or for her money."

Jonathon just laughed. "Trust me, Mr. Date Phantom, Stephen Dulane is not your typical guy—he may just surprise you."

* * *

Christine groaned in frustration as she once more, hit the delete key, erasing her fifth paragraph for the day. She was having the biggest case of writer's block in years. Part of it, she knew, was because of the horrible heartache that Meg was going through. It had been nearly a week since Christine had returned early from her mandatory vacation, and learned the news of Meg's latest bad break-up. She thought that her friend was making progress, but it seemed she was wrong. Meg was really going through a rough period a deep loneliness, and was even considering going "speed dating" that weekend. Christine was trying her hardest to be supportive, although she could not stop thinking that Meg was really rushing into things too quickly. And it was having a huge effect on her writing.

"Mail's here, Chris!"

Christine looked up to see Brian tossing some mail into her cubicle's mail basket. She received many "Happy Single" fan letters, as well as a few hateful ones, mainly by men who were pissed off because their girlfriends listened to her advice, rather than their lies. Christine grabbed the letters, hoping that somewhere inside them she would find some ounce of inspiration for her column, but instead she found…

"An invitation to a bridal shower?

Puzzled, Christine opened the invitation. There was no return address, so who was it from? She didn't know anyone who was getting married any time soon—

"Oh crap," Christine groaned, as she began to read the fancy lettering on the expensive non-recyclable paper.

"What is it?" Brian asked. He was still standing nearby, putting other letters that the mail boy had delivered, into the various baskets around them. "Hate letter?"

"No, it's worse," Christine grumbled, her voice dripping with disdain. "My old roommate from college is getting married, and has invited me to her bridal shower."

Brian looked confused. "And this is bad because…?"

"Because it's Carlotta Granzelli, that's why."

Brian's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "You know _Carlotta Granzelli_?!?"

Christine just nodded her head; it was an association she could do without.

"Carlotta Granzelli…the daughter of luxury hotel billionaire, Roberto Granzelli? The heiress to the Granzelli fortune!?"

"Yep, that's the one," Christine sighed.

Brian just stared at the woman before him. "My gosh Christine! What was this college that you went to you where you met all these people!?"

"Harvard."

Brian opened his mouth to exclaim something, and then paused. "Oh yeah, you did, didn't you?"

Christine nodded her head. "Carlotta was only there during our freshman year, it barely counts. I think she just attended the place so that she could put the school down on her 'popularity resume' to try and prove to the tabloids that she was smart."

Brian shrugged his shoulders, but his brow furrowed with confusion once more. "So…why, exactly, are you reluctant about attending?"

Christine let out a long, weary sigh. "Carlotta and I did not get along; I was there to study and get an education…she was there for entirely different reasons. Now and then the tabloids would show up to take pictures of her, and she would use me as her 'charity' project, or something like that. Basically, she would use me as a way to make herself look good, and grow even more in popularity. And now, she's inviting me to her stupid bridal shower, just so she can rekindle that usage of me again, at least that's my theory, why else would she invite someone like me?"

Brian was staring at her as if she had three heads. Christine shifted uncomfortably under his gaze; she could tell he was formulating some sort of plan.

"You have to go."

It was Christine's turn for her eyes to pop out. "W-w-what?"

"You have to go! Oh my gosh, Christine, I mean…this is a golden opportunity for the magazine!"

Christine couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Excuse me?"

"I'm serious!" Brian grinned, the mechanisms in his head turning faster and faster, as images of the Pulitzer flashed before him. "You go to this bridal shower, bring a camera, take a few notes, and BINGO! We have our December cover story on _wedding showers of the rich and famous,_ just in time for Christmas."

Christine couldn't believe this was the same man who had been her journalism mentor. "You're insane, you know that, right?"

"You say insane…but others, would say I'm brilliant!"

Christine shook her head. "It won't work."

"What do you mean it won't work?" Brian argued. "70 percent of our readers are single women who just eat this stuff up! And think about it, Chris…it could give you new material for that column of yours that you're having so much trouble with writing…"

Christine glared at him. "I am not having trouble, and don't spy on me while I'm typing!" she accused. "And there is still one very important reason as to why it won't work."

Brian folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

Christine couldn't help but give a triumphant smirk. "Simply, that I'm not attending."

"Oh yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Meg would want you to do it, you _know_ she would!"

"Meg would respect my wishes, she—"

"I think it's a great idea."

Both Brian and Christine paused their argument to look up and see their pretty, petite boss, standing only a few feet away. Brian grinned from ear to ear; Christine's face went from red, to purple.

"I think Brian is right, Chris," Meg reasoned. "This is the sort of story that would sell big, especially around the holidays. And you would have a great opportunity as our 'inside woman', getting closer to this sort of thing than any other magazine ever could."

"See?" Brian pointed out. "Exactly what I was thinking!"

Christine just glared at him. "Hey Brian, I think you have a little something, right here," she muttered, touching her nose. Brian did not miss her implication, but he simply grinned all the more.

"When is this bridal shower?" Meg asked, attempting to bring peace back into the situation.

Christine groaned and opened the invitation once more. "Oh gosh," she gasped. "It's tomorrow night!"

"Talk about waiting until the last minute with sending the invites out," Brian muttered. Christine could only nod her head; finally, something both she and him agreed on.

"Well, that doesn't leave you much time," Meg simply stated. "You best take the rest of the day off and go shopping for that perfect bridal gift."

Christine made a face. The idea of shopping for someone like Carlotta Granzelli did not exactly fill her with joy. What did one get a hotel heiress?

"It's not going to be as bad as you think," Meg tried to reassure, reaching out and squeezing Christine's shoulder.

Christine just made another face. "You don't know Carlotta Granzelli."

Meg smiled and shook her head, although Christine could tell that her friend was struggling. Meg was trying to focus herself on work, she really was, but there was still that sadness that haunted her eyes. Christine took pity on her friend and squeezed Meg's hand that still lay on her shoulder. "I'll have a rough draft in your office by Monday," she promised.

Meg smiled, thankful that Christine had brought her out of her sad thoughts and stopped her from crying and making a further fool of herself at the office. "I look forward to reading it," she simply murmured, before turning and leaving Christine and Brian there.

"Poor girl…" Brian sighed.

"She'll be fine," Christine muttered, her voice filled with determination. Whatever it took, Christine would see to it that her friend rise above this, and be happy once more.

She turned to go, on her unhappy mission to find Carlotta a bridal gift, when she bumped into someone who was standing just behind her, his eyes intensely focused on Meg's retreating figure. How long had the guy been there?

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry!" the man apologized, his face flushing with embarrassment.

Christine looked at the man who she had bumped into, and recognized him as one of the magazine's accountants. He wasn't a tall man, about the same height as her (which wasn't very tall), with a slightly round figure, receding hairline, and his clothes looked somewhat mismatched. Was it her, or was he wearing navy blue trousers, with a black suit jacket?

"That's alright, no harm done," Christine said with a polite smile, ready to brush past the man and continue on her journey.

But the man reached out and gently tapped her arm, causing Christine to turn back and look confused. "Um…sorry, I…I don't mean to delay you, but…is…is Miss Giry alright?"

Christine looked a little puzzled. She had seen this man around the office before, but she didn't know his name, let alone anything about him, other than the fact that he was an accountant. Meg's personal life was her personal life, and Christine was not prepared to share the fact that her friend had just had a most painful break-up. "Miss Giry is fine, sir."

The man looked skeptical, but gave a weak smile, letting his eyes linger one last time in the direction Meg had gone, before turning and leaving.

Christine still looked puzzled. Who was that guy?

* * *

"Here we are, Mr. Henri!"

Erik peeked out of the window of the black limousine that Jonathon always sent for him when he had to pick up and meet clients. It was his calling card, his "interview office" as he called it. Jonathon liked to refer to it as "The Date Phantom's Batmobile".

"Either we're early, or he's late," Erik muttered to himself.

"He's late," Pete, the old limo driver, grumbled in his thick Brooklyn accent. "I always arrive on time."

Erik chuckled at this. Pete was just as much a business partner as Jonathon was. The old man was another former client of Erik's. Pete was a widower and was thinking about dating again, but he was unsure how a man his age would go about asking women out on dates. The man ran a limo service in Brooklyn, one that Jonathon was familiar with, and was able to get the old man to meet his friend. Turned out that Pete had quite a crush on his next-door neighbor, a lovely 57 year-old lady by the name of Lucille. As promised, in three dates time, Lucille was head over heels in love with Pete, and Pete insisted that he somehow repay Erik for all that he had done. For seven years, Pete had been Erik's personal driver, and always remained discrete about the information that was given by Erik's potential clients.

"Sir, is that him?"

Erik peered out the tainted glass and watched as a slightly pudgy looking man, that fit all the descriptions that Jonathon had given him, exit the building of _New York Chique_ magazine. Stephen Dulane looked flustered, confused, and as several businessmen brushed past him, nearly knocking him over, Erik could conclude that the man also needed some serious lessons in self-confidence. "Yes, Pete, I do believe that is him."

Pete knew his cue. He quickly exited the car, and made a motion for Stephen Dulane to approach.

Stephen had been scanning the busy streets for the black limo that he was told would pick him up. It was windy and raining, and Stephen had been so nervous about meeting this man known as "the Date Phantom", that he forgot his umbrella of all things, and his coat did very little to keep out the chilly November weather. On top of that, his glasses were fogging up, making it impossible for him to see anything, even a giant black car.

"Mr. Dulane! Mr. Dulane!"

Stephen heard his name being called, and quickly attempted to wipe the lenses of his glasses, before looking ahead of him to see an old limo driver, flagging him down to the long black limo that he had been told about. The time had come…

Stephen quickly dodged the cars that roared down the busy street, and safely made it to the other side where the limo was parked. The old driver opened the door for him, and without another moment's hesitation, Stephen quickly climbed inside, the door closing right behind him.

The limo was dark; Pete had already closed the connecting window between driver and passenger. The windows were tainted, creating a slightly spooky atmosphere. Stephen swallowed, wondering if this was a good idea…

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Dulane."

"Gah!" Stephen practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of the deep voice that came across from him. He peered into the shadows, and then gasped as he heard a small "click" sound, which came from an interior light on the limo's ceiling. Stephen's mouth fell open as he stared at the dark gentleman that sat across from him, dressed in a casual black business suit, no tie, who was holding a folder and pen, and looking at him with intense amber-colored eyes. However, the feature that struck Stephen Dulane more so than anything, was the full white mask that hid the man's face.

"As I said, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Dulane," Erik extended his hand and waited. His clients were always shocked upon first meeting him.

Stephen knew he was gawking, and quickly tried to turn his eyes away from the mask, which was proving to be quite difficult. With a tentative hand, he reached out and grasped Erik's, who had a good, firm handshake, before pulling back and wondering if he was doing the right thing.

Erik immediately began to scribble something on a notepad attached the folder he held in his lap. "I don't know if you always shake hands as you just did, but if so, you need to be firmer. Also, it is polite to reply to what someone says, and your staring right now is becoming very aggravating," he muttered, without even looking up.

Stephen closed his mouth, which had been hanging open, and immediately began to advert his eyes.

"No, by doing that, you look guilty, which will immediately cause her to become suspicious. Don't stare, but don't immediately advert your eyes if you've been caught, understand?"

Stephen's head was reeling. "I…I um…n-no?"

Erik felt a smile lift at the corners of his mouth. "I know it seems confusing, but you'll quickly learn what I mean," he proceeded to scribble a new note. "And you're honest; that will work in your favor."

Stephen didn't know whether to feel proud or to apologize. He was so confused by everything that was going on. "S-s-so you're the Date Phantom that Grant told me about? You helped him?"

Erik smiled once more. "Grant is a good man, and I understand that he and Diane are going to be celebrating their six month anniversary quite soon."

Stephen's face lit up. "Can you help me? I mean…I…I know I'm not exactly…" Stephen's face contorted into a deep frown as he looked down at himself. He knew he was an absolute mess; his suit didn't match, his clothes were either too tight or too baggy, and compared to many other men, he was not what a woman would call "catch material". But ever since the day he met her, Stephen had been infatuated with Meg Giry. She was the most beautiful woman in the world; no other woman could hold a candle to her. She was sweet, kind, and she smiled at him one time, and laughed at a bad joke he had made, but it was a genuine laugh, like she really thought what he said was funny. From that day on, and every day, he thought of her. He imagined what it would be like, to hold her close, to kiss her lips, to make her happy. He knew he didn't stand a chance, but…he couldn't help but hope…

Erik studied the man across from him. _Jonathon may be right; Stephen Dulane may be quite genuine._ Erik tapped on the wall divider, and a small window immediately lowered. "Let's go for a drive, Pete."

Pete smiled; when Erik gave the signal to drive, it meant he was seriously considering making the potential client, an actual client.

The limo began to pull out, but suddenly, without warning, the car hit the brakes and both Erik and Stephen jerked forward from the sudden stop. "What the devil!?" Erik muttered, peering out the dividing window.

Pete was yelling obscenities at a young woman who was standing directly in front of limo. The woman was drenched, her dark brown hair hanging limply from her head, her hands clutching the ends of her coat as she tried to hold the fabric together, despite the harsh, cold wind, which whipped around her.

"Watch where you're going!" the woman shouted at the limo, before taking her purse and using it to punch the hood of the car.

"You watch it, lady!" Pete shouted back. "Look where you're going next time!"

"I have the right of way!" the woman shouted once more. "This is a cross walk!"

"Would you cross a cross walk with oncoming traffic?! Huh, crazy lady!?"

"PETE!" Erik barked. "Ignore her and drive on!"

Pete turned his head, trying to look sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Mr. Henri, but she—"

"Hey! I know that woman!"

Both Pete and Erik turned to Stephen, who was now peering out the divider at the angry looking brunette who was muttering a few more curses to the limo, before turning and stalking away.

"I feel sorry for ya," Pete grumbled.

"Just drive on," Erik hissed, his head beginning to pound with frustration.

Pete apologized once more, before finally turning out and heading down the street. Erik turned his head to see where the woman had gone, and narrowed his eyes as he peered out the tainted windows. She was walking down the sidewalk in the same direction the limo was heading. She turned her head a few times towards the limo, and appeared to be muttering curses at them. It was hard to make out her features, the way the rain was brutally hitting the glass, but whoever she was, Erik felt something strike him as he looked at her. Something…strange. Something…familiar? He had no idea who she was, he could barely see her! But something about her…he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but…there did seem to be something about her that just felt…right.


	4. Encountering Prince Charming

**Summery: **Christine meets someone while shopping for Carlotta, and Erik sees a new side to Stephen Dulane...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Encountering Prince Charming_**

Christine groaned as yet another jazzy rendition of "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town" filled the loud speakers in the Saks Fifth Avenue store she now stood inside. She rarely shopped there, but because it was known to be "classy", she figured it was as good a place, if any, to find a suitable bridal gift for her ex-roommate.

She was sure it would be simple; she was sure she would find something the second she walked in, something that looked gaudy and extravagant, but didn't exactly cost what something truly gaudy and extravagant would demand. However, her search was proving to be harder than she had anticipated.

It turned out that everything that did look gaudy and extravagant also cost the same as the real thing. And Christine had no intentions of spending a week's salary on a gift for someone she held no warm feelings for. As if to darken her mood even more, the store was blaring loud, obnoxious, Christmas music at every corner, something Christine truly detested as she insisted on waiting till after Thanksgiving for such holiday revels.

"I should have tried Macy's," Christine muttered to herself. She realized then that she was standing in the lingerie department, a realization that made Christine's stomach churn; the last thing she wanted to get Carlotta was something for the honeymoon.

"Um…e-e-excuse me?"

Christine's head shot up at the sound of a man's voice. It was coming from just over her shoulder, and she quickly turned around to see who was talking her, and felt her breath escape her as she gazed up at perhaps, the most handsome man in the whole wide world…

He was tall, with an athletic build, and was wearing a very expensive, but very stylish business suit. He had dark blonde hair, and the warmest pair of brown eyes that Christine had ever seen in her life. They reminded her of two steaming cups of warm mocha coffee, and there seemed to be this sparkle within them when he smiled. His smile was perfect; his teeth were clean and white, and his lips looked as if a sculptor had chiseled them from the finest marble. He was the first guy, in a long time, that had caused Christine to do a double-take.

"Hi," the man murmured, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "Um…I know this is going to sound awkward, and I apologize for that, but…I um…I was wondering if you could help me?"

Christine realized just then that her mouth was hanging open, and she immediately closed it and swallowed the surprised lump in her throat. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a romance novel! If his hair was longer, he could certainly give Fabio a run for his money…

"Uh…sure…" Christine smiled, trying to sound perfectly calm and collected. Nothing wrong with helping an extremely attractive stranger with…well, whatever it was.

"Thanks so much," the man replied, his dazzling smile returning once more. "Oh, by the way, my name's Ryan, Ryan Channing."

"Christine Davis," she responded, taking the hand he extended to her and shaking it firmly. Ryan seemed to grin at this, although Christine knew it had nothing to do with her column. No one, outside of the folks at the magazine, knew her connection to _New York Chique_. To the general public, she was simply known as The Happy Single.

"Christine…that's beautiful," he murmured, his voice warm, like honey dripping off the comb. She smiled at him, although something inside her immediately started to raise a red flag…

"So," Ryan continued, his blush returning once more. "I um…I was hoping you could give me your advice?"

"Ok," Christine shrugged, thinking there was no harm in that, forcing the red flag her psyche was attempting to rise, back down. "How can I help?"

"Well…" Ryan seemed to redden even more, and he bit his perfect lower lip as he looked down at the items on the table before him. "This is going to sound strange but…I'm trying to figure out which of these garments…would be best?"

Christine's brow furrowed and she looked down at the table before him, her eyes widening as she realized he was indicting to several satin baby-dolls which lay there. The red flag sprang back to life.

Ryan, however, seemed to realize this. "Oh! Oh gosh, it's not what you think—"

_Never a good sign_, Christine thought.

"No, please, I…forgive me, I know this may seem really sleazy, but I'm not…that is…oh crap," he sighed, looking down at the floor with embarrassment. "I'm trying to find a gift for my sister," he finally confessed, his cheeks glowing more brightly than ever before.

Christine arched a dark brow at this. "Your sister?" The red flag refused to go down, even for a second.

"Yeah," Ryan sighed, somewhat sheepishly. "You see…her um…her wedding is this weekend…and I'm trying to find her a gift, and…well…I waited till the last minute, and everything left on the registry is taken, so…" he ran a hand through his hair, looking for someone to throw him a life raft out of this embarrassing situation.

"So you thought you would get her some lingerie?" Christine finished for him. She had to admit, she did feel sorry for the guy, being in this sort of embarrassing situation, however she could not stop thinking how…strange…it was, for a man to be buying lingerie for his own sister.

"Yeah," Ryan murmured, still looking extremely embarrassed. "And…well…the truth of it all is," he looked down at his feet and mumbled his next words all in one breath. "You look to be exactly her size, so based on what you choose, that's what I would get."

_WARNING! WARNING!_

Christine stared at the man in front of her, and instinctively, she began to back away.

Ryan looked up and noticed the look of horror on her face, before groaning and covering his handsome face in his own hands. "Oh God, this came out all wrong…you probably think I'm some sort of pervert…my God, I…I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for disturbing you…" he turned around then and began to walk away, his body slumped in a look of absolute defeat.

Christine watched him turn and leave, and her heart immediately went out to the guy. "Wait…" she called out, to which he stopped, and slowly turned to face her. She bit her lip, wondering what she should do now. Truth of the matter was, she didn't trust this guy. Sure he was charming, and extremely handsome, but this all seemed so strange—asking a woman for her, well, basically her breast size so that he could buy a piece of lingerie for his own sister—she was sure she was not wrong in finding that peculiar, if not somewhat creepy.

However…what sort of guy would willingly put himself through this kind of embarrassment…and risk getting his face slapped, if he were not being genuine?

"Look," Christine sighed. "If you want some advice, this is the best I can offer," she pointed to the cashier's line just over her shoulder. "I'm also shopping for a bridal gift, and I have just decided that the best gift I could possibly get for someone is in fact…a gift card. So that's what I recommend."

Ryan seemed to smile at this, and murmured a "thank you", before joining Christine in the cashier's line. He still looked embarrassed, and his face was still bright, but he did seem to have calmed down a bit.

"So," he attempted to make small talk. "Do you also have a sister that's getting married?"

Christine shook her head, although a smile crept to her lips. "No…she's hardly that. She's more of a…um…"

"Friend?"

"_Pain in the ass_ are the first words that come to my mind," Christine bluntly stated.

Ryan seemed somewhat shocked by Christine's statement, but quickly smiled, seeing the laughter in her eyes. "I take it that this is not something you wish to attend?"

"Am I that transparent?" Christine giggled.

Ryan joined in her laughter, and smiled down at her, his eyes gazing upon her with such tenderness. It was Christine's turn to blush now. Suddenly, the voice of the lady at the sales desk brought Christine back to reality, and she quickly made her gift card purchase, before stepping off to the side to allow Ryan to make his.

Ryan couldn't help but smile, so happy that she had chosen to wait for him. "Thanks for this suggestion. It's probably the smartest choice I'll make all day."

Christine returned the smile; although she could not shake the way he kept looking at her. "I'm glad I could help…" she reached out to shake his hand one last time. "Well, congratulations to your sister, I hope the wedding is wonderful."

Ryan looked down at her hand and quickly took it, although instead of shaking it, he tenderly held it in his own. "Where do you live? Perhaps we can share a cab—"

_WARNING! WARNING!_

"Um…I…I'm actually going back to work," Christine lied. She had just met this guy; the last thing she wanted to do was tell a complete stranger where she lived.

"Oh, well, I would love to give you a lift there—"

"It's not that far from here, besides I like to walk."

Ryan frowned slightly, and noticed that she was pulling her hand out from his grasp. "But it's raining—"

"I'm sure it's stopped by now, and if not, well, a little rain never hurt anyone, right?" she laughed, although it was obviously forced.

"Christine, I would love to buy you a drink to show my appreciation—"

"I'm sorry, I really have to go, but it was very nice meeting you," she turned on her heel then, and began to hurry away.

Ryan stared after her retreating figure and his frown only deepened. "But Christine…" he silently cursed himself. "Can I at least give you my number? I would still love…" but she had already rounded the corner, and was out of sight.

"Damn it!" Ryan swore, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He had been so close! He stalked over to the sales desk and slammed the gift card back down on the counter. "I'd like my money back, please."

The cashier gazed up at him with confusion. "But you just—"

"I'd like my money back, please," Ryan demanded once more, the light-heartedness that his voice had carried, disappearing altogether. The woman behind the desk nodded her head before quickly working at redeeming his cash from the card. Ryan sighed and gazed once more in the direction that Christine Davis had gone.

_So much for the 'fake sister' idea. _

* * *

Erik studied the man who sat across from him in the limo. They had been driving around for at least twenty minutes, and in that time span, Erik had gotten to know much about his new client, Stephen Dulane. He knew all of Stephen's hobbies and interests, from watching all three programs of _CSI_, to his love for hockey and the New York Rangers. He knew all about Stephen's past history with women…which wasn't much; the last date he had been on was five years ago, and that had ended with the woman telling him to do the world a favor, and jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. Based on all the information that Erik had gathered, Stephen was a man who lacked confidence, didn't think much of himself, and always second guessed every decision he made. This, of course, made it impossible for Stephen to date women, at least to have successful dates with women. And then there was the issue involving one particular lady…

"So…tell me about Meg Giry."

Stephen, who had been looking down at the floor of the limo, shot his head up at the mention of Meg's name. His face immediately reddened, something Erik could only smile at. "W-w-what do you w-wish to know?" he asked, his voice shaking with nervousness.

Erik leaned back in his seat and put his pen down. "Take a deep breath," he instructed. "First thing you need to do is relax; you can't ask Meg out if you look as if you're about to have an asthma attack."

Stephen gasped at those words, and quickly began to breathe in and out at a rapid pace. "You…you r-r-really think I have…a chance?"

"Well, that depends," Erik folded his arms across his chest and focused his intense amber gaze at the man in front of him. "Tell me about Meg Giry, and why you like her."

Stephen slowed his breathing and began to look down at his feet once more, but a quick sound from Erik, and he immediately brought his eyes back to the masked man's. "Well…I met her about…three years ago, the day after she took possession of the magazine from her mother, Antoinette Giry. I've been on _New York Chique's_ accounting team for about six years, so I was no stranger to the magazine. I remember coming in to the company meeting; I always pride myself with being punctual when it comes to meetings, but that day…I don't know, it just seems that everything was going wrong. My alarm didn't go off, I couldn't get a cab, I was missing some important files…nothing was going right, and I knew that I could get fired for this, as I knew this was an extremely important meeting! So I was rushing, running really, to the building, up the stairs, and into the main office, and if I had been looking where I was going, I would have realized that someone was coming around the corner—"

"_Umph!"_

_Stephen fell backwards, the files he was holding flying up into the air. "Oh no!" he had all the files sorted by date and alphabetized for the new editor-in-chief, and now they were lying in mixed heaps across the floor._

"_Oh gosh, are you ok?"_

_Stephen didn't realize then that a woman was talking to him. He looked up to see the person he must have run into…and he swore his heart stopped beating._

_She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Correction; he was sure she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world._

_She was petite, shorter than him, which said a lot, since he was not as tall as most men. She had long, curly copper-gold hair that seemed to fall in waves about her shoulders. Her eyes were the most beautiful shade of green he had ever seen, and her smile…was it possible for a woman to glow like a beacon with such a smile? It was the warmest, friendliest, and most welcoming smile he had ever seen. She was radiant…and she was talking to him!_

"_Are you ok?" she asked once more, concern lit in her emerald eyes._

_Stephen couldn't believe it; this beauty, this goddess…she was asking if he was ok, when he had obviously plowed right into her!_

"_I…I'm f-fine," he swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and immediately began reprimanding himself. "I…I'm so sorry, I should have been looking where I was going—"_

"_Oh don't worry about it, no harm done," the woman giggled, her laughter sounding like beautiful, sweet music. "But your papers, oh gosh, I'm so sorry, look what I've done—"_

"_No! I mean, please, it's not your fault," Stephen immediately stopped her from attempting to pick them up for him. "Please, you don't need to do that, it was my own clumsy fault."_

"_Nonsense," the woman ignored his attempts to stop her, and continued picking the papers up and shuffling them until they looked perfectly even. "This is the least I can do," she grinned._

_Stephen carefully took the stack of papers from her hands as if she were giving him a precious jewel. "T-t-t-thank you…"_

_The woman smiled, before rising to her feet, and reaching down to offer her hand. Stephen stared up at her, feeling unworthy of accepting her hand, and quickly scrambled to his feet on his own, inwardly chastising himself for not rising sooner so that he could help her up. _

_She grinned up at him, the top of her head coming to rest just under his nose. She really was quite petite! "Take care of yourself," she smiled, before turning and continuing in the direction she was heading before colliding with him. He watched her walk away, taking notice of the grace in which she moved. Who was she? What was her name? Would he ever see her again?_

_A few minutes later, he came stumbling into the large board room, apologizing for interrupting Antoinette's lecture, before finally finding his seat, and working very hard to avoid the eyes of his boss, who he could feel burning into his back for his tardiness._

"_And without further ado, gentlemen…" Antoinette grinned, holding her hands out to her side. "May I introduce my daughter, and the new editor-in-chief to_ New York Chique _magazine…Marguerite Giry!"_

_The room erupted into hearty applause, and Stephen quickly joined in, but his clapping stilled as her beautiful face came into view once more. The woman he had met in the hallway! It was her! SHE was Antoinette's daughter?!? SHE was the new editor-in-chief?!?_

"_Hi," Meg greeted the room, that same beautiful, warm smile, radiating off her beautiful face. "And please…call me Meg."_

_Meg._

_What a beautiful name. Stephen was sure he had never heard a more beautiful word in his whole, miserable life…_

"And I knew…I just knew, from that day forward…that I was doomed."

"Doomed?" Erik asked. He had been enraptured with Stephen's story, and found himself frowning as this simple man, who was obviously head over heels in love with this beautiful and successful woman, as he talked about being "doomed".

"Yeah," Stephen sighed, his eyes now falling to the floor once more. "I mean…she's Meg Giry! She's beautiful, talented, successful—basically everything that I'm not," he groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I'm nobody…and don't even deserve to share the same air that she breathes."

Erik's frown only deepened. "Based on what you just told me, though, there was clearly some sort of connection between you two. After all, she did seem to care about your well being when you fell on the floor. And she did smile at you and acknowledge you…"

Stephen hadn't thought of that. He remembered her smile, how could he not? But Meg was simply being herself; wonderful, kind, caring Meg, who always showed respect and compassion to all the people she came in contact with. "Meg was only doing what she would do to anyone in that situation. That's what makes her so special and wonderful…she has the biggest heart of anyone I know."

Erik smiled at this. "Which means you do have a chance."

Stephen could feel the hope rising within himself, but he knew it was impossible. "No…I mean…she would never go for someone like me…"

Erik frowned once again. "Well, not with that sort of attitude."

Stephen blushed. "I just mean, you should have seen her last boyfriend! That guy was…well, everything I'm not," he muttered with disgust, although Erik was quick to notice something light up in Stephen's eyes, and it wasn't personal repulsion. "That asshole…he threw away the most wonderful gift a man could ever have!"

Erik was intrigued by this new side to Stephen Dulane, and found himself leaning forward. "What do you mean Stephen? Are you talking about Meg's last boyfriend?"

Stephen's jaw tightened. "She gave him everything, including her heart! But he just…he threw it all away, for…for…for some bimbo!"

Erik was growing more and more fascinated. "Her last boyfriend cheated on her?"

"Yes!" Stephen exploded. "He had the most beautiful woman in the world by his side, and she loved him! She loved him and did everything for him, but he didn't respect her, he didn't realize what a precious gift he had! He treated her like garbage and threw her love right back at her, as if it were nothing!"

Stephen Dulane was fuming; his face was red, his eyes were lit with vengeful fire, and the muscles in his jaw and throat were tense. He looked ready to punch the glass out the limo's windows!

"I can see the passion you have, Stephen," Erik softly murmured. "The passion you hold for this woman, and I feel the respect and admiration you have for her as well. But let me ask you one last question…are you happy?"

Stephen looked confused by this question. "Happy?"

"Yes," Erik explained. "Happy that she's single once more…?"

Stephen felt the rage begin to leave, only to be replaced by intense sadness. "No…" he answered, his voice so soft, it sounded like a whisper. "No, I'm not happy."

"Why not?" Erik asked, his own voice not much louder.

Stephen looked back into Erik's eyes, and swallowed the emotional lump that was in his throat. "Because…that means her heart is broken. It means that she's upset, and sad…and…and I've seen her, I can tell how horrible it's been for her…and…" he let out a sigh and took a deep breath before continuing. "I just want her to be happy. She's a good person, and deserves to be treasured and loved."

"Even if it's by another man?"

Stephen nodded his head, although it pained him. "Mr. Henri, I've accepted my lot in life. A man like me doesn't stand a chance with a woman like her…but all that matters is that she finds love and happiness with the right guy."

Erik leaned back in his seat once more and gazed at the man before him, a smile slowly creeping at the corners of his face. "I disagree, Mr. Dulane," he murmured. "A man like you _does_ stand a chance…and when it comes to Meg Giry finding the right man…I can earnestly assure you, that I'm sitting right across from him."

Stephen stared wide-eyed at Erik, the masked man's words slowly resonating. "You mean…you really think…?"

"Mr. Dulane, it would be a great honor to work with you, and to help you win the heart of Meg Giry."

If Stephen didn't have his seat belt on, he would have fallen right out of his seat. "Oh…oh Mr. Henri! I…I don't know what to say! I…just…thank you, sir, thank you!"

Erik grinned and reached his hand out, to which Stephen quickly grasped and shook most heartily. "You are most welcome…" he looked down at their hands. "You still need to work on that handshake, though."

A musical sound filled the limo, and Erik groaned as he realized it was coming from his small mobile phone. "Excuse me," he apologized, before taking the phone. Only one person had this number. "I'm busy with a client, Jonathon."

"Sorry to bother you, Erik, but—hey! Are you talking with Stephen Dulane?"

Erik winced slightly at his friend's manners. "Yes, and we're rather busy."

"Wasn't I right? Isn't he a great guy?"

"Yes, Jonathon, you were very right, as always," Erik groaned sarcastically. "Now if you will excuse me—"

"Wait, I did have a good reason for calling you!"

A weary sigh escaped Erik's lips. Best to let Jonathon say his peace, or else his calls would never end. "Go on…"

"Well, as you know, tomorrow is Wendy and mine's anniversary…and we're having a party with some close friends, and…well, it would mean so much to me, Erik, if you could be there."

Erik frowned at this, and immediately began to feel nervous. "Jonathon—"

"I know, I know, you don't care too much about going out in public, but this will be a small, intimate gathering of some of our closest friends, and we have an important announcement to share, and…it would just mean so much to me, to Wendy…to both of us, if you're there. Our marriage would not have happened, if it weren't for you, buddy. So please…will you attend?"

Erik shifted his weight somewhat nervously at Jonathon's request. His friend was not wrong; Erik did not care to be out in public too much, hence why he did his client interviews in the limo. He would go out in public on occasion, but mainly at night, and normally to places where the crowds were small. He hated the looks people gave him when they saw his mask, and the self-consciousness he tried so hard to suppress would rear its ugly head once more.

But this was his friend. And he knew Wendy, she was a wonderful person, and he had been the best man at their wedding for crying out loud! The least he could do was this…

"Where is this party happening, and at what time?"

Erik swore he could hear Jonathon's smile through the phone. "Thanks man, this really means a lot to us. The party will be at eight o' clock, at the place where I proposed to Wendy—"

Erik blanched for a bit. "The Plaza Hotel?"

"Hey, you remembered! Yeah, in the restaurant downstairs. We've reserved a small, private, dining room off to the side, so don't worry, when I say intimate, I mean it."

Erik was grateful for that much. "Alright, I'll see you at eight."

"Thanks so much Erik! Like I said, this really means a lot to me!" Erik listened as the dial-tone filled his ear, before he finally turned the small phone off.

"Sorry about that," Erik apologized to Stephen. "That was an old friend, my first client actually. Tomorrow is his seven year anniversary."

Stephen's eyes widened at these words. "Seven years? Wow!"

Erik smiled slightly to himself. "Yes…and with any luck, seven years from now, you too, will be holding a similar celebration with Meg."

* * *

"And then, he asked me what 'size' I was, because he wanted to purchase some lingerie for his sister, who apparently is the same size I am!"

A gasp filled Christine's ear. "You're kidding me!"

Christine shook her head, even though she knew her friend couldn't see the action through the phone. "I wish I were, Meg, but no…the guy really wanted me to tell him, right then and there, what my cup size was."

"Oh wow…" Meg gasped once more. "Do you think he was telling you the truth?"

Christine made a face. "I confess, at first I thought he was, even if it is a creepy story. I mean, that's not normal, right? I'm not alone with thinking this, right? A grown man, buying lingerie for his sister, for her wedding night?"

Meg quickly agreed. "Yeah, that is strange, you're not wrong. But what kind of guy would make up a story like that?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Christine explained. "I mean, you should have seen the embarrassment on the guy's face, he looked like…like a lost puppy, or something. I nearly fell for it too, but then, after I helped convince him that a gift card was his best possibility, he asked where I lived so we could share a cab!"

"Oh, well, that's nice—"

"Nice!? No Meg, it's creepy! I mean, it's just like that movie…you know, the one with Antonio Banderas where he stalks Rebecca De Mornay? Handsome, charming stranger who seems perfect…except for the fact that's a raging psychopath! No, once he asked me that, I saw right through his game."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, before Meg's voice finally said, "no offense, Chris…but don't you think you're being a little too paranoid?"

"Paranoid!? Meg, if some random stranger asked you where you lived, and wanted to see where your apartment was located, you're telling me that's not the least bit creepy?"

"No, but…I'm just saying that…maybe you shouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions about people, you know?"

Meg's words threw Christine. While she was convinced that the handsome blonde man was up to no good, she did know that it was a fact that she had a hard time trusting people…men in particular. It just seemed, based on all the letters she received, month after month by countless women who had lying, cheating, sniveling boyfriends who they once believed to be Mr. Right, and based on Meg's own series of horrible boyfriends…and based on her own bad experiences…that men in general…were not creatures to be trusted. At least not with one's heart…

"Hey," Meg broke the silence. "Tell me about tomorrow, are you excited?"

Christine made a face. "As excited as I would be for root canal."

Meg laughed. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"You don't know Carlotta," Christine grumbled. "Do I have to do this? Can't you stop being my boss for this, and just be my friend and sympathize with me?"

Meg laughed some more, knowing that despite Christine's displeasure, the young woman would go through with it. Over the last three years, Christine had done a lot of things for the magazine, even things that she did not enjoy or want to do. She was a true team player.

"Just stay for an hour, I'm sure you'll get enough material for the magazine from that. Now, on to more important matters…what are you going to wear?"

Christine groaned once more and collapsed atop her bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I have no clue…but whatever it is, I'm sure whatever I own is not nearly fancy enough for it. Did I tell you? The party is being held at the Plaza Hotel!"

"The Plaza?" Meg gasped.

"Yeah," Christine grumbled. "In the restaurant downstairs. Apparently Carlotta rented the entire place out, save for one small dining room where another group of people are having their own party."

Meg laughed. "Maybe you can sneak in there?"

Christine joined in her friend's laughter. "Maybe I can…I'm sure whoever is in there will be having tons more fun than myself."

"True," Meg grinned. "And who knows, maybe your own white knight is waiting there for you, as well."

Christine laughed at this and rolled her eyes. "Ha! I have more luck encountering the mythical 'Date Phantom' than meeting my own Prince Charming."


	5. Finding Comfort in Uncomfortable Situati

**Summery:** A chance meeting at The Plaza Hotel...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Finding Comfort in Uncomfortable Situations_**

Erik sat in his car and stared at the luxurious hotel before him. He hated this; he hated the discomfort he felt when he had to go out in public. It was a battle he always fought right before he went out anywhere, especially to places where there would be strangers and large crowds.

It was amazing how that horrible feeling still hung over him after living in this city for so many years. He taught his clients to have self-confidence in themselves, and right now, he was eating those words.

"Why couldn't Jonathon and Wendy have done this in their home?" he muttered to himself. _Because this is a special occasion, you idiot, isn't that what you always teach? Surprise her by going someplace meaningful and special on a special occasion?_ He really needed to think about the advice he gave, and how it would later affect him…

Pete had offered to drive him to The Plaza, but Erik refused. He would be drawing enough eyes onto himself by simply being himself; he didn't need to add to it by showing up in a limo. He took a deep breath, and finally opened the car door; grabbing the gift he had brought in the backseat, and boldly began walking towards the hotel.

It began as soon as he took his first step.

People were staring. There were a few women, dressed in beautiful and flirtatious cocktail gowns, standing outside, waving to friends who approached the hotel, giggling, sharing cigarettes, and talking endlessly. The second the women's eyes fell upon him, their chatter stopped, and their whispers began. It sounded like a hive of bees, the way they whispered.

Erik set his jaw and kept his eyes focused on the door in front of him, ignoring the stares he was receiving, ignoring the whispered hiss all around him. He didn't know why he still felt self-conscious; he should be used to it by now.

A doorman stared up at Erik, his face going pale at the sight of the masked man before him. Erik paused, waiting for the doorman to react, a part of him wanting to reach out, grab the man by the throat, and hurl him across the street. That would teach him for being rude. Instead, Erik pushed the violent urge aside, and reached to take the door handle himself. Only then did the doorman react, immediately grabbing the door and jerking it open for Erik to go through. "W-w-welcome t-to the Plaza, s-s-sir…" the doorman stuttered nervously.

Erik fixed his gaze on the man, who seemed to tremble even more, before walking past him and entering the beautiful world-famous New York hotel.

"Erik! Hey! Over here!"

Erik was grateful that Jonathon had the courtesy of being inside the lobby, as opposed to forcing him to hunt down this restaurant, thus earning more stares. He walked over to his friend, his arm outstretched to shake Jonathon's hand. "Happy Anniversary," Erik muttered, trying to force the cold displeasure from his voice.

Jonathon grasped Erik's arm and gave it a good shake, before patting the masked man on the shoulder. "Thanks, buddy, this really means a lot to us."

Erik smiled at this, feeling awful that he had allowed his own self-consciousness to nearly get the better of him. He vowed to himself that for the rest of the night, he would focus all his energy and attention on Jonathon and Wendy; this was their night, and he wanted them to be happy.

"Wendy is already in our own 'private party room'," Jonathon explained, as he led Erik away from the lobby. "We're still expecting a few others to show up, but most of them are people you know."

Jonathon continued to lead Erik towards the restaurant, every now and then having to dodge more women who were milling around, talking and giggling, many already on their way to being drunk.

"What is going on?" Erik muttered, amazed at all the women that filled the crowded restaurant they entered.

"You won't believe this, but Carlotta Granzelli, the celebrity heiress? She's having a bridal shower of all things, here! Tonight!" Jonathon had to shout, the music coming from a live band at the back of the restaurant was deafening.

"And this was the best evening you could find for your anniversary party?" Erik shouted back.

"Hey! We had these reservations for months! I wasn't going to back down just because some pampered hotel princess wanted the whole place!"

Erik rolled his eyes as they fought their way to the private dining room, grateful once they finally arrived.

"Erik! Oh I'm so glad you made it!" squealed a happy female voice.

Erik smiled as Wendy bounded towards him, leaning down and kissing her cheek as she leaned up and hugged him. "Happy Anniversary," Erik greeted, smiling down at the lovely raven-haired Korean-American woman who he had known since college.

Wendy grinned and then punched her husband on the arm. "Well, you better go back and play shepherd until the rest of our guests arrive." Jonathon grumbled, but gave his wife a kiss, before turning and returning to his post in the lobby. Wendy took Erik's hand and led him to a place at the table near the spots where she and Jonathon would be sitting. "Erik, I want you to meet some of my friends from work…" she smiled and began introductions. "This is Todd, Kimberly, and Mark. They're all book editors, like me," she grinned.

Erik smiled and extended his hand to each of the people, noticing that they only stared a little at his mask. Wendy had obviously already prepped them.

"And you already know Jonathon's friends: Michael and Evan."

Erik smiled and shook the hands of his fellow groomsmen from Jonathon and Wendy's wedding.

"Wow! Still have quite a handshake there!" Michael laughed.

Erik said nothing; he simply smiled. Michael needed lessons on how to properly shake hands.

"Good to see ya again, Erik!" Evan grinned. "Gosh, how long has it been? I don't think I've seen you since Jonathon and Wendy's wedding!"

Erik shook his head. "I believe you're correct."

"So how's that music business going?" Evan asked, taking a bottle of Merlot and pouring Erik a hefty amount. "Last I heard, you were composing some sort symphony? Or…opera, was it?"

_Ah yes, my infamous career alibi._ "Opera," Erik confirmed. "And it's coming along nicely."

Wendy's friend Kimberly seemed to show interest in this bit of news. "Oh that's interesting! I've never met an actual composer before; what is your opera about?"

"It's based off of Tolstoy's classic tale of romantic tragedy, _Anna Karenina_," Erik simply explained. That wasn't too far from the truth. Erik had majored in music while at Columbia University; he studied music theory, music history, particularly that of the classical composers. He loved opera, and at one point, chose to write an opera based on the very book he had mentioned. However, once his current business took flight, he put his music on the back burner.

"Wow," Kimberly murmured. "Have you written anything else?"

Erik shrugged his shoulders. "A few cantatas, a couple of songs, not a lot to tell the truth. My time has mainly been dedicated to my opera."

Wendy smiled at Erik, knowing that he was doing his best to keep his secret alter ego exactly that, a secret. He had advised both her and Jonathon to always refer to him as a composer, should anyone ask what he did for a living. And that was the exact story she always used when preparing people who were meeting Erik for the first time. It was ten times easier than preparing them for the full mask he always wore.

"Ok, all here now!" Jonathon announced, as he finally got inside the dining room, with two more friends in tow, both of whom were people Erik had met on previous occasions. "Let's get this party started!"

Waiters arrived shortly after, bringing in appetizers, taking orders, returning with drinks and more wine, and finally bringing in their main courses. Erik listened more than participated in the conversation around him. He found that even though he wasn't with a client, he couldn't help but scrutinize the other men in the room.

Michael slurped his soup, a nasty habit that all people need to have shaken out of them when they are children.

Todd talked with his mouth full, something that not only disgusted Erik, but also Wendy's friend Kimberly, who Todd was obviously flirting with.

And Evan kept cracking crude jokes, jokes that belonged in a sports bar, not at a fancy restaurant.

Erik shook his head, amazed at how ill advanced members of his own gender were.

"Um…if I could have your attention please?" Jonathon tapped his water glass and smiled down at his wife, before taking her hand in his. "The reason we all asked for you to join us is, well, as you know, it is mine and Wendy's seven year anniversary…"

Applause went around the table, and Erik smiled as Wendy leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss her husband.

"Also," Jonathon once again brought everyone's attention back, "we have some bad news…and some good news."

Erik frowned, unaware that something bad was going on…

Wendy smiled tenderly at Jonathon, before turning and facing the table. "We'll get the bad news out of the way first," she murmured. "As many of you know…Jonathon and I have been trying, for quite some time, actually, at having a baby…" Erik felt his chest tighten as he noticed Wendy suck in a breath to keep her obvious tears at bay. "Well…we recently learned…that we cannot have children."

A sudden gasp, followed by sympathetic murmurs, floated around the table. Jonathon's arm tightened around Wendy's small shoulders, and his eyes held nothing but love and tenderness for the woman before him.

"But there is some good news too!" Wendy grinned, quickly wiping her cheeks. She looked up at Jonathon, silently asking him to continue, as she did not feel she could control her emotions.

Jonathon smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head before continuing. "Wendy and I have been discussing it for quite some time…and a few months ago, we visited an adoption agency…and we both received the phone call a few days ago, that we are going to be the proud parents of a six month-old baby girl."

A gasp went up from around the table, and people immediately began applauding, shaking hands, hugging, and repeating over and over, "congratulations!" Erik was amazed himself; Jonathon had never mentioned the difficulties he and Wendy were having, but then again, how does a man talk about such things to another man? This kind of problem was the sort of thing that could destroy marriages…but during the whole announcement, Erik watched with awe at the love that both Jonathon and Wendy had for one another, that was displayed so simply, so purely, through their looks and gestures. It was truly humbling, and truly inspiring.

"Congratulations," Erik finally found his voice and stood up to grasp his friend's hand.

Jonathon grinned, and without warning, wrapped his arms around Erik and gave him a big "guy hug", before pulling away and grinning. "I hope you understand now why I wanted you to be here."

Erik chuckled, before giving Wendy a hug. "I'm very glad I came."

* * *

Christine couldn't have been more miserable.

The moment her cab pulled up to let her out, she knew that this was a bad idea.

There were people everywhere, women mostly, drinking every kind of cocktail imaginable, smoking, and squealing at levels that she was sure only dogs could hear.

The place was packed; the lobby was littered with more of these women, and the noise level only grew worse when she approached the restaurant. Christine began to mutter curses; curses towards Carlotta, curses towards the magazine for insisting that she go, and curses for her own stupidity at agreeing…as well as for her wardrobe choice.

"What was I thinking?" she muttered to herself as she caught her reflection in a mirror. Christine had obviously gained a little weight since last year. She wore the traditional "little black dress", or as her mother had chirped, "the most essential thing a woman can have in her wardrobe!" Christine had only worn the dress once, to last year's Christmas party. Then, it fit perfectly, hugging her curves and flattering her figure; now…she felt like she was squeezing herself into a wet leather glove.

The dress still hugged her curves, but it felt extremely tight, and she was afraid that if she sat down, a seam might pop! The dress also seemed to have shrunk just slightly; Christine was not a tall woman, and yet when she was sitting down in her apartment to put her heels on, the dress, which ended just above the knee, rode up very high, giving more than the proper eyeful of her thighs. It also seemed to have shrunk in the chest region as well. Christine was not a large breasted woman, and yet the dress was pulling at her chest in such a way, she feared that if she bent over, let alone breathe too heavily, "the girls" might make a break for it.

And yet she had nothing else that was really appropriate. And why would she? She hadn't been on a date in over three years, she rarely went to anything fancy, and she always preferred jeans and trousers to skirts and dresses. It was the little black dress, or nothing at all. Either way, Christine knew that venomous she-devils would gawk her and joke about her choice of fashion; that was just the sort of friends Carlotta kept. She went with the dress in the end because she assumed that there would be women dressed ten times sluttier than herself; perhaps she could just "blend with the crowd".

"Ok ladies!" shouted a voice from the small stage in the back of restaurant. Christine rolled her eyes and turned her attention from the shadowed corner she had been hiding in, folding her arms across her chest in yet another vain attempt at regaining some decency. "The moment you have all been waiting for is here! May I present to you…the one, the only…CARLOTTA GRANZELLI!"

A tremendous wave of exuberant cheering and screaming erupted the restaurant, as four, well-oiled, muscular men emerged, carrying a large thin mattress, attached to four long wooden poles, atop which lounged a beautiful, voluptuous, blonde bombshell (with an extremely obvious dye-job). The cheers reached a new level of deafening, as Carlotta waved to her "adoring fans", her outfit an obvious attempt at trying to make her look like Cleopatra.

Christine just rolled her eyes at the theatrics, and took a few pictures with her small digital camera, as Brian had ordered. "One hour," she muttered to herself. "One hour, and then I am out of here."

The men stopped at the stage, and carefully helped Carlotta down. She smiled at each of them, making an obvious show of running her hands over their greased up chests, before turning and grinning at the screaming audience. "Thank you all for coming!" she cried, her voice tinged with a slight Italian accent. She blew a few kisses, before taking a drink that someone had poured for her, and lifting it high into the air. "A toast!" she declared, to which her admirers followed suit, lifting their own glasses. "To love!" she shouted, to which they repeated. "To marriage!" she cried, to which they repeated once again. "And may they all come your way and make you just as happy, as they have made me!"

Another deafening cheer arose before everyone tossed back their glasses. Christine simply took a few more pictures.

"Now…enjoy the party!" Carlotta shouted to the cheering crowd, before taking the arms of two of her muscled men, and climbing down into the admiring throng of well-wishers.

"Check that," Christine muttered. "I'm leaving in 30 minutes."

"Christine?"

Christine froze at the sound of her name. She couldn't possibly have seen her! But she was wrong…for only a few feet away, stood Carlotta, grinning ear to ear, her arms wrapped tightly around the two oiled Chippendales. How on earth had she reached her so quickly? Christine was sure her hiding place was foolproof!

"Oh! It is you!" Carlotta cooed, to which she released her muscular entourage to throw her arms around Christine and give her two awkward kisses on the cheek. "Oh how good it is to see you!" she purred, looking Christine up and down. Her words were sweet as honey, but Christine could tell by the cold look in Carlotta's eyes, that the fake-blonde was obviously scrutinizing her appearance. "My…you haven't changed a bit!"

Christine bit her tongue and forced a smile. "Neither have you," she replied, quite truthfully.

Carlotta beamed. "Thank you…I'm so glad you could come! It has been ages!"

Christine continued to force her smile. "Yeah…nearly ten years."

"Ten years!?" Carlotta gasped. "No, that can't be right, I mean…you don't look to be over 30…"

"I'm not," Christine gritted her teeth. "I just turned 27…and we were both 18 when we last saw each other."

"27!" Carlotta exclaimed. "Well, happy belated birthday! Oh you must have so much going on! Work, family—oh, do tell me, how many children do you have?"

Christine folded her arms around herself once more. "I don't have any children…I'm not married."

Carlotta blinked several times at this. "But…you are nearly 30!"

Christine was getting tired of this obsession over her age. "Yes, well, we are not living in the 19th century now, are we? I mean, a woman's value lies beyond her husband or how many babies she churns out, doesn't it?"

Carlotta's eyes narrowed for a moment, and Christine swore she saw the hint of a proud smirk lift at the corners of her former roommate's lips. "Indeed…you are right. You must forgive me, however, as you know, being recently engaged, all I can think about is marriage and family…" she batted her eyes. "Tell me, how is your love life?"

Christine felt her face turn red at the question, which only caused Carlotta to grin. She had her answer. "Oh, do not despair," she cooed, as if she were talking to a little lap dog. "Marko!" she snapped her fingers, and one of the Chippendales stepped forward at her beckoning. "Entertain my dear friend, she…" Carlotta scrutinized Christine's appearance once more, "…_obviously_ has not had much in the way of male companionship."

Christine paled, and then reddened even further, as several women who had overheard Carlotta's words, burst out laughing. Marko approached her with a grin, which only caused Christine to feel even more uncomfortable. She knew it, she knew that Carlotta would find some way of using her like a "charity project" in order to make herself look good.

The music started up and all the women started dancing out on the restaurant dance floor, with Carlotta in the center. Marko turned once more to Christine, offering his hand to her, but she simply shook her head, feeling more embarrassed than ever. "T-t-that's quite all right," she protested. "You don't have to do anything—"

"But my mistress insists," Marko growled quite valiantly, and without any warning, scooped Christine up and began carrying her away from the crowd.

"What are you doing!?!" Christine gasped as she felt her feet lift off the ground. She began to beat her fists against the oiled man's greasy muscles. "Put me down! PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!"

"But my mistress insists," Marko replied. Was this the only piece of English that he knew?

"TO HELL WITH WHAT SHE SAID! _I'M_ TELLING YOU TO PUT ME DOWN!"

"But my—"

"Do as the lady says."

Despite the loud music, and the cheering coming from the other women in the restaurant, both Christine and her captor heard the deep voice as clear as a bell. Marko seemed to actually pale at the man who stood before him, and Christine turned her face to see who had spoken and felt a gasp catch in her own throat as well.

The man who stood before them was quite tall, well over six feet, with broad muscular shoulders, dressed in a clean, casual, black business suit. His most startling feature, the first thing a person could not help but notice, was the white mask that covered both sides of his face, save for his chin and mouth, which caught Christine's attention. It was a beautiful mouth…set within a strong jaw, and handsome chin. She lifted her eyes to the man's eyes, and felt her breath leave once more; his eyes were striking! She had never seen eyes of that color before! A strange, dark golden color…like amber…and yet, they seemed to darken in the dim lights of the restaurant, almost making them look black. Everything about him seemed dark…his clothes, his eyes, his short black hair…even his voice! Who was this guy? Where had he come from?

Erik had been walking out of the dining room he and his friends had been occupying. Just when they heard the screams erupt over Carlotta Granzelli's entrance, they all knew the time had come for them to leave. At least with a person like Carlotta Granzelli, he was assured more attention would be drawn to her, than to his mask.

He was just about prepared to walk out of the restaurant, when something…or someone, actually…caught his eye.

It was a woman. A woman who had been standing in a dark corner, taking a few pictures, and who looked to be just as uncomfortable about being there as he was. He got a good look at her and swore his breathing had stopped. She was beautiful—and the dress she wore left little to the imagination. But he could tell by the way she stood, and the way she continued to fuss over her dress, be it from the skirt, or the neckline, that she was obliviously uncomfortable. He didn't quite understand why, after all, no one was staring at her the way they would stare at him, and she was gorgeous! She was slightly petite, with long, curly brown hair that looked to be slightly unruly, as she was constantly trying to push several rebellious curls out of her face. She had a beautiful hour glass figure, something Erik highly approved of, as he hated this new trend where girls were starving themselves until they had no waist, no breasts, no hips, no curves at all! Her legs were long and slender, the dress beautifully flattering them, and now…as he looked into her eyes, he was startled by the dazzling dark blue color that he saw.

He watched as the infamous hotel heiress spoke to this girl; he couldn't quite hear the conversation, but judging from the expressions on the young woman's face, he could tell that she was not sharing in Carlotta's delight. Then, without any warning, one of these oiled buffoons, picked the woman up, to which she clearly was not enjoying, screaming at him to put her down at once. Erik could not stand by one second longer; even if it meant that people would stare at him, he would not allow a woman to be treated like an object.

"The lady has requested, multiple times, that she would like to be put down. I suggest you do so, _immediately_."

Christine finally blinked, and gasped as she felt the strong muscled man who held her prisoner, tremble at the cold darkness of the masked man's voice. While the masked man looked strong, and appeared to be well built, his muscles were nothing compared to the man that held her. But it wasn't about pure brute strength…it was about intimidation. And the masked man clearly had that on his side.

"I…I…t-t-that is, I didn't mean…" Marko was stuttering, and without any further encouragement, quickly put Christine back down on the ground. "I…I'm s-s-sorry…" he stuttered, his eyes never leaving the masked man's as he backed away.

"Don't apologize to me," Erik muttered. "I'm not the one whose space you violated."

Christine stared up at the masked stranger with wide eyes, trying to remember the last time anyone had ever come to her defense. She couldn't recall!

"S-s-sorry…" Marko stuttered, forcing his gaze upon Christine, before glancing once more at the masked man. Without another word, he turned and hurried back in the direction where Carlotta and her fans were dancing.

Despite the whole scene, few people had noticed. Everyone was too busy dancing and drinking, and both Erik and Christine found themselves standing completely by themselves.

The adrenaline rush that had been pumping through Erik's veins began to die down, and he was reminded once more that he was a strange looking person, in a very crowded place, and there was a beautiful woman gazing up at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced down at her, before quickly lifting his eyes once again. What should he say!? He had never played "valiant rescuer" before, although he had encouraged the behavior with several of his clients. What was it that he always told them to say?

"Are you all right?"

He inwardly winced at the way he had spoken. It didn't sound confident enough!

Christine was slightly startled when he spoke to her again, his voice sounding softer, and filled with genuine concern, while still being deep. It was an extremely comforting sound…

"Y-yes, thank you," she murmured, cursing a few stray curls that had fallen across her face and refused to remain tucked behind her ear. _"Thank you"? That was all you could think of saying? The guy just…well…basically, came to your rescue! _She smiled up at him, although it was a slightly nervous smile. Her arms immediately wrapped around her body once more, once again being reminded of the way too tight dress that she wore.

"Um…I was—"

"Forgive me if this sounds—"

Both realized they had been talking at the same time and stopped, nervous laughter leaving their throats, although as they glanced into each other's eyes, a smile slowly spread across their faces.

"Please," Erik whispered. "You first."

Christine smiled and felt her cheeks redden once more, although this time it wasn't out of embarrassment. "I was just…that is…I was just going to say that…well, I'm…I'm leaving…" She could strangle herself for how horrible that sounded. _You're leaving? So what? Could you have made that sound any more "hooker-ish"? Well, you are dressed for the part…_

Erik only smiled and nodded his head. "I'm leaving myself…and I…that is…forgive me if this sounds too forward, but…I was wondering if you would allow me to pay for your cab ride home?" _Oh God, that came out horribly! You deserve to be slapped across the face for that one! She's a lady, not a prostitute! Way to go on that one…_

Christine was somewhat started by these words. "A cab?"

Erik held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "Forgive me, you probably have a car, I did not mean to assume—"

"No, no, it's alright," Christine quickly reassured. "I mean, I did come here by cab, but you don't have to—"

"Please," Erik took a step forward, and Christine gazed up at him with wide blue eyes. They were only a few inches apart, and Christine bit her lip as she realized just how tall the man truly was…her head stopped just below his shoulder!

Erik realized that he was breaking one of his own basic principles, of invading a woman's space before being given permission, and he quickly took a step back. Christine let out a slightly shaky sigh, realizing then that she had been holding her breath. Her arms hugged herself, trying to keep out the slight chill that his stepping back had caused. She could feel so much warmth radiating off his body from just standing a few inches apart! She wished that he hadn't stepped back…

"I apologize for my forwardness…" Erik continued, feeling like an absolute fool for the way he was behaving. "Paying for the cab is the least I can do, however I know that I'm a complete stranger, and I do not mean to cause you any discomfort. If I am, for that I truly apologize for, and promise I will not press the issue any further."

There, he had said it. Now he awaited her inevitable look of shock and horror, before backing away and threatening to call the police.

But instead, the most extraordinary thing happened. She smiled at him. And when she smiled, her eyes seemed to light up with some sort of magical sparkle that he couldn't quite describe. It was breathtaking…

"If I may be forward for a minute…" Christine blushed. "May I ask, what is your name?"

Erik couldn't believe his rudeness; he had always instructed his clients to introduce themselves within the first minute of meeting. "I'm terribly sorry," Erik apologized. "My name is Erik, Erik Henri."

Christine held back her giggle. She had never heard a man say "terribly sorry" before. She smiled at the hand he held out, and quickly took it into her own. "Nice to meet you Mr. Henry…I'm Christine, Christine Davis."

Erik bit his lip at the obvious mispronunciation of his surname, but smiled as he heard her murmur her name to him. It was truly beautiful…just like the rest of her.

"Miss Davis," he whispered. _Christine_…

Christine grinned, blushing as she realized that the two of them were still holding hands. Erik seemed to notice this at the same time, and they both released one another's hands, although they both secretly missed the warm touch of the other. "Well…we're not strangers anymore, now, are we?"

Erik found himself grinning at her words. "No, no we are not."

Christine smiled bashfully, before turning to pick up her coat, which she had left atop a chair from her previous dark corner, but frowned as she realized the coat was missing. "Oh no…" she groaned, before looking all over the floor. A waiter was passing by, and she stopped to question him about her coat. The waiter apologized, telling her he hadn't seen it, and then disappeared around the corner.

Erik noticed Christine's distress, and saw the concern and frustration written across her face. "Is something wrong?"

"My coat," Christine grumbled. "It's missing. I left it on this chair over there, but…no one's seen it. Not the waiter, not the bar tender…" she couldn't believe her bad luck.

Erik frowned. "Was there anything of value in it?"

Christine shook her head. Thank heaven she had remembered to move her apartment keys from her coat pocket into her purse. "No, just that I'll freeze now as I go outside."

"Pardon me," the waiter whom she had just questioned returned. "I have just informed the restaurant manager. He and several hotel staff will keep their eyes open for it. I'm sure it will turn up. We shall call you the moment we find it." Christine thanked the waiter, although she was still annoyed.

"Do you want to continue looking for it? I would be more than happy to help…"

Christine looked up, surprised to see that Erik was still standing by her side, and that he had just offered to hunt for her coat. She smiled and shook her head. "No, thank you, but…what I really want to is to get out of this place," she confessed, to which Erik could only smile in agreement.

Without a second thought, Erik removed his own coat, and placed it around Christine's shoulders. Christine was startled by the gesture, and Erik once again cursed himself for forgetting another of his basic principles about asking for permission.

"Oh! Oh, please, you don't need to—"

"Please, it would be an honor."

Christine stared up at him. An honor? Did he just say that? No one ever said things like that…at least no man that she ever knew…

"But…" Christine bit her lip. "W-what about you? And…" her fingers ran over the material—this was a pure wool coat! She couldn't wear something this expensive! "I couldn't possibly—"

"Please…" Erik murmured once more. Christine swore she could feel her insides melting. "It's the least I can do."

The guy was paying her cab fare _and_ lending her his coat. Had she somehow fallen into an old black and white romantic movie?

Whoa! _Romance?_ Where had that come from? He was just being a gentleman…that was all, right? Although, she couldn't recall the last time she had encountered a true gentleman…

"Thank you," Christine whispered, hugging the coat around her shoulders. She was suddenly struck by the smell of him: sandalwood soap, aftershave, and…something that reminded her of vanilla. It was perhaps one of the best scents she had ever smelled…

"You're welcome," Erik whispered back, fighting the urge the place his arm around her shoulders and gently lead her out of the restaurant. Instead, he smiled down at her and offered his arm, to which she gratefully accepted, after realizing what the gesture meant. No one ever did anything like that! At least not anymore…

They left the restaurant, and the hotel lobby, and a string of cabs were sitting outside. Erik rarely rode in cabs, but when he did, he always wanted to make sure the cab was in good condition, and the driver wasn't drunk, or smoking. He found one to his satisfaction, and helped Christine inside. She gazed up at him, and a part of her wanted to ask him to come back with her, something that shocked her completely. Even if she did know his name, she didn't know anything about this guy, other than the fact that he wore a mask.

Then it struck her. Outside of when she first met him…she had completely forgotten about the mask.

"Wherever the lady requests," Erik instructed, to which Christine found surprising. He was being courteous, and not asking for her to shout out where her home was! He was respecting her privacy!

Erik handed the driver a large sum of money. "This is to assure that you get her to where she wishes to go as quickly, and as safely as possible." He then got a good look at the cab's license, and that deep, cold menacing voice of his returned once more. "And if I hear any complaints, I will know which cab to look for."

The driver's eyes went wide, and he quickly nodded his head before taking the money Erik was handing him. Erik turned his eyes back to Christine and smiled at her once more. "Goodnight," he murmured, before stepping away from the curb.

Christine couldn't find her voice, and it wasn't until the cab was pulling away that she finally was able call out "goodnight" to him…but they were already halfway down the street.

Erik watched as the cab turned a corner, and let out a long, weary sigh. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and trudged back to where he had parked his car. He wished that he had asked for her number, but what good would that have done? It had been practically a decade since he had last gone out on a date! And it wasn't the most normal of meetings, besides, he had already been forward enough by offering to pay for her cab and giving her his coat. He could tell that she wasn't entirely comfortable, and could he blame her? Would anyone be if a strange masked man had approached them?

His mask.

It was funny. For the few moments he had been in her presence, he had forgotten all about it…


	6. Daydreams and Introductions

**Summary: **Erik and Christine can't stop thinking about their chance encounter, and Erik coaches Stephen on how to make a proper introduction...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Daydreams and Introductions_**

Christine was feeling odd today. She awoke after having one of the most pleasant nights of sleep she could remember, and practically felt like skipping to work. She sang in the shower, she actually took a moment to eat some breakfast (it was only a bowl of cereal, but still, it was breakfast!), and she hummed all the way to the office.

Her humming continued, even as she passed Karen, the magazine's receptionist. "Good morning, Christine," Karen politely greeted, although the woman was looking at the brunette with confusion. Christine never looked…well…_pleasant_, when she came into work.

"Morning, Karen," Christine warmly greeted, before walking over to her cubicle, and gracefully flouncing into her desk chair. She was still humming as she waited for her computer to warm up…something Brian took immediate notice of.

Brian poked his head out from his own cubicle and eyed Christine with the same confusion that Karen had eyed her with. He rose from his desk and wandered over to hers, his confusion only growing by the second as Christine's pleasant humming continued. "So…?"

Christine glanced up at her friend and smiled warmly. "Good morning, Brian," and without another word, she handed a cream-colored folder to him.

Brian's brow furrowed. "What's this?"

"The pictures you requested that I take at Carlotta's party," Christine answered matter-of-factly, as she typed in her computer password.

Brian cocked an eyebrow at this. "So?"

"So what?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Aren't you going to say _anything_ about the party? My gosh, that was nearly three days ago! Friday! Today's Monday, Chris, you can't leave me in the dark for this long!"

Christine gave Brian a sweet smile, one to which he only glared at. "You want to know how the party went?" she asked, leaning back in her desk chair and folding her arms behind her head.

"Don't make me beg," Brian grumbled.

Christine giggled at this thought, but decided to go easy on her friend. "Ok, well…the truth of the matter is…it was one of the worst night's of my life."

Brian blinked for several seconds as he registered Christine's words. "Worst night?"

"Yep," Christine sighed with a nod of her head. "Carlotta still hasn't changed, just as much of a bitch now, as she was back at Harvard. She humiliated me in front of all her so-called friends, the music was too loud, there were far too many people, and to top it all off, I lost my coat."

Brian continued to stare at Christine with confusion. This didn't make any sense! If the night was so bad, then why…why did she seem so…happy? "Your coat was stolen?"

Christine shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know about that, but someone who wasn't me did move it at some point. The restaurant said they would call me if it was ever found."

Brian narrowed his eyes and focused on the coat that was still wrapped around Christine's shoulders. It was long and black, and looked far too large for her. It was also a man's coat. Suddenly, everything started to make sense.

"Oh my God…"

Christine's pleasant smile started to fade at the look she saw in Brian's eyes. "W-w-what?"

Brian's face lit up like a light bulb. "Christine Davis…you little devil…"

Christine frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Brian grinned. "You met someone!"

Christine's face flushed a deep crimson color at Brian's accusation. "What? Why would you—"

"Oh don't play innocent with me, missy. You come in here, all happy and full of pleasantness, which you never are on a Monday morning, admit it." Christine opened her mouth to protest, but Brian continued. "And you claim that Friday was one of the worst nights of your life…but here you are, humming and grinning, and wearing a coat that is not your own!"

Christine gasped and then realized that she was still wearing the masked man's coat. "I…well…I just met a very nice man who…who was a complete gentleman and lent me his coat, that's all. I plan on returning it as soon as mine is found, or when I get a new one," she quickly added, although that thought made her frown.

Erik. She remembered his name. The tall masked man who had come to her rescue, and then had been so chivalrous, offering his arm, escorting her out of the restaurant, paying for her cab, and to top it all off, giving her his coat after losing her own. A gentleman; that was what he was…a species she had long since believed to be extinct.

All weekend, Christine had been contemplating her masked hero. She wondered why he wore a mask, and tried to think of the possibilities behind it. Her first thought was that the private dining room next to the restaurant was having some kind of small costume party; but if that were true, surely he would have removed the mask upon their introductions, right? No, it had to be something else, and Christine's chest tightened as her imagination began to create different reasons for why a man would feel it necessary to wear a mask when he was out in public.

Inside, she felt hot anger boil as she imagined the pain and ridicule Erik must have endured in his life because he was "forced" to wear a mask to cover…well…what society would deem as imperfect. What other reason could there be?

Christine had lifted her hands to remove the coat, but instead, her fingers only tightened around it, and she found herself hugging the garment to her body. Brian did not miss this, and he folded his arms across his chest. "Christine Davis…are you in love?"

Christine's eyes went wide at her friend's words, and her head snapped up to stare back at him. "W-w-w-what?"

Brian could only grin. "Oh my God, you so are! I was just thinking that you met some guy at Carlotta's party and after three years of living like a nun, you finally…well…" Christine only glared at him for what he was implying. "But I can see that it's more than that…you _like_ this guy!"

Christine's face only reddened. "I…I…I don't even know him, he was just being a gentleman, I…" she glared up at her friend. "Just shut up and go back to your cubicle, ok? You got the photos, I'll type up my report, and…life will go on."

Brian was still grinning. "Christine Davis, a.k.a. The Happy Single has found love."

"Shut up!"

She threatened to throw something at him, and Brian immediately made his disappearance, although it was him humming now, while Christine sat in her chair and fumed.

No, she was not in love, she was just pleasantly surprised by this mysterious and sexy masked man—

Sexy? Oh who was she kidding, the man was sexy! The brooding eyes, that perfect mouth, not to mention that it looked like he worked out; she did recall his muscular bicep when he offered her his arm…

Even the mask was sexy! And his smell…

Christine didn't want to admit it, but part of the reason as to why she hadn't tried to get the masked man's jacket back to him was…well…she loved the smell!

It was hard to describe, but it was such a wonderful male smell, the kind of smell that Christine truly believed all men should have. And it perfumed his coat in such a way, that during the weekend, while she watched television in her apartment, she would snuggle on the couch with Erik's coat wrapped around her.

But she was not in love with some stranger! She knew his name, but that was it! Ok, she knew his name and the fact that he was…the first gentleman she had encountered in…well…ever, but still! Christine and Love did not get on very well; when she was sixteen, she told her boyfriend that she loved him, and he broke up with her the next day, totally freaked out by what she had said. During her first year at Harvard, she met a guy who was handsome and charming, and who seemed like Mr. Right…that is, until after he convinced her to sleep with him. There were a few other guys that followed: the lazy bum that expected her to pay for everything and attempted to live in her dorm room so that he wouldn't have to pay for campus housing. The possessive creep who threw a jealous fit if he ever saw her talking to another guy, and who she caught trying to stalk her at one point! And then there was her journalism professor, who told her that her writing was superb and that she had such wonderful potential…but who neglected to tell her about his wife and two children.

No, love was not meant for her, and for three years, Christine had been perfectly content with the way things were…

That is, until the night of Carlotta's party.

_He's probably married, or has a long-term girlfriend, or something! No man that polite, that sweet, that…that perfect, could be single._ Still, she had to see him again some time; after all, the guy was probably missing his coat by now.

Checking to make sure that Brian wasn't spying on her, Christine dug into one of her file drawers and pulled out a thick phonebook. She only hoped that Mr. Erik Henry was listed…

* * *

"Um…Mr. Henri?"

Erik lifted his head at the sound of Stephen Dulane's voice, coming from across his living room. Erik shook his head and tried to keep his eyes focused on the nervous looking man in front of him. "I apologize Stephen, my mind was wandering again."

His mind had been wandering ever since that night at The Plaza when he met the beautiful and delightful Christine Davis. It was Monday now, and for practically three days, his thoughts had been on nothing but her. Jonathon called him early Saturday morning, thanking him again for coming to the party, and inquiring about the pretty brunette that he had seen Erik talking to as he and Wendy left. Erik could feel his cheeks burn under his mask at Jonathon's question, and simply muttered that the lady was in need of some assistance, and being a gentleman, he offered that assistance, nothing more.

"Oh really?" Jonathon asked. "And did she also _assist_ you, Mr. Date Phantom?"

Erik growled at Jonathon's question, to which his friend only laughed. Erik hadn't gone out on a date with a woman for nearly 10 years! And he certainly hadn't…well…done what Jonathon was so elegantly indicating for the same amount of time, either. Erik had long ago resolved himself to this life; he might know all the right things to say and do on a date, but his face would always be a problem. The disfiguration was too severe, no amount of plastic surgery could fix it, and no woman would be able to resist the curiosity of seeing what he looked like without his mask. Erik closed his eyes and groaned painfully as he remembered the last girl who had seen him without his mask; she didn't scream, but she did jump away from him, covering her mouth with her hand, and looking utterly horrified. Erik knew in that moment, his purpose was to help other men find true love, not himself.

But after his chance encounter with the lovely Miss Davis…Erik was beginning to reexamine his resolve.

He shook his head; this was crazy! He barely knew the woman, and she probably had a boyfriend. She was grateful for his help, but he was sure that was all. She probably could care less if she ever saw him again.

"Mr. Henri?"

Erik shook his head, not believing that he had allowed his mind to wander once more. "I'm sorry, Stephen," Erik sighed, rising from his desk and rubbing the back of his neck. It was noon, and Stephen had come over to Erik's penthouse on his lunch break. Today was a big day for him; the accounting firm that _New York Chique_ belonged to was having its big end-of-the-year meeting with Meg Giry and other important figures of the magazine. Erik saw it as the perfect opportunity for Stephen to talk to Meg and introduce himself.

"I…I'm just so nervous…" Stephen groaned, his face already breaking out into a sweat. "I mean…what should I say? What if I can't speak? What if I—"

"First thing you need to do is to calm down," Erik advised, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against his desk. "This is just simple introductions, you're not asking her out on a date yet. You need to let her know who you are, you need to help her understand that you're a trustworthy person, and someone she would like to go on a date with in the future, that's all."

Stephen stared blankly at Erik for a long moment, before he crumbled into the chair behind him. "Oh God…I…I can't do this…"

"Yes you can," Erik insisted. "Imagine I'm Meg."

Stephen lifted his nervous eyes to Erik, looking somewhat confused. "I…I'm sorry?"

"Imagine I'm Meg," Erik repeated. "The meeting has just ended, people are rising to leave, and no doubt, going through a line and shaking her hand. What do you say?"

Stephen felt his throat go dry at this thought. "Um…h-h-hello, Miss Giry, I…I…"

"Take a deep breath," Erik advised. "You need to come across as calm and collected. You start stuttering and she'll think you're either ill, or psychotic."

Stephen nodded his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Hello, Miss Giry," he was able to get that out without one stutter. "My name is Stephen Dulane, and I just want to thankyouforsuchawonderfulmeeting."

Erik smiled, although he was wincing slightly. "That was much better…but you began to speed your words up near the end. You want her to understand what you're saying."

"Right, right," Stephen took another deep breath, trying to prepare himself once more.

Erik walked over to him, and Stephen quickly rose to his feet, his face going pale, wondering if he had done something horribly wrong even before beginning again. "I'm Meg," Erik repeated. "I've been standing here for a while, shaking hands with other members of the accounting team, and I'm bored to death. How are you going to impress me and make me remember you after this long meeting?"

Stephen nodded his head, understanding what Erik was saying. "Hello, Miss Giry," he quickly noticed that Erik was looking down at his hands, and Stephen immediately held his out to shake Erik's. Erik took the hand and shook it, smiling as he felt Stephen's good, firm grip. "My name is Stephen Dulane, and…and I just want…" he lifted his eyes upwards, as if trying to remember some important lines.

"What are you doing?" Erik asked.

Stephen's eyes snapped back to Erik's. "I…I was…I was just trying to remember—"

"This isn't a play, Stephen, you don't have lines to memorize, and if you try to do that, it's going to go horribly wrong."

Stephen paled. "It will?"

Erik nodded his head. "Women like men who are calm and natural. The moment a woman begins to suspect that something has been rehearsed, she immediately grows suspicious and will start doubting your character."

Stephen paled even more. "She will?"

"Yes," Erik confirmed. "And never look away, always hold her gaze. I want you to start over from the beginning, and don't think about what you're going to say, just say what you feel as if this were any other introduction…and don't take your eyes off mine." Stephen gulped but nodded his head. "By the way," Erik added. "Good handshake."

Stephen smiled at this, and took another deep breath, opening his mouth to begin again, but the phone rang in that instant, distracting both of them. Erik wanted to ignore the phone, but knew that Stephen would not be able to concentrate until someone stopped it from ringing, so with a groan, Erik leaned across his desk and picked it up.

"I'm busy, Jonathon."

"Erik, I'm really sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to give you this information. I may have another potential client for you."

Erik rolled his eyes. "And this couldn't wait?"

"Hey, the guy was desperate! He wants to speak with you today, if that's possible."

Erik groaned once more, looking down at his desk calendar. "Why is he so desperate?" He didn't like the sound of this guy, and he hadn't even met him yet.

"I don't know, but he said he'll do anything to get a meeting with you today. So can you help this poor schmuck?"

Erik was still feeling unsure. However, Jonathon's next words surprised him. "I know this is going to sound strange, Erik, but…he's not like some of your past clients, in fact…he's kinda like me."

Erik's unseen brows went up at this. If the guy was anything like Jonathon, it didn't mean that he had trouble getting a date, but that he needed an emotional makeover so that he could be a good man to any woman that he met. "Alright," Erik sighed. "Give me his name and his place of work."

Jonathon gave Erik the information he would need, and Erik penciled in a time to meet this new potential client. After hanging up, he looked back at Stephen, who was biting his lip and looking nervously at the calendar Erik had been writing in. "You have a new client to go and meet?"

Erik shook his head. "I have a _potential_ new client, but I'm not meeting him until later. Don't worry, Stephen. You're still my number one priority." Stephen couldn't help but smile at this, glad that Erik wasn't brushing him aside the same way others did. Erik noticed the way Stephen relaxed and smiled back. "Alright…let's try this again."

* * *

Christine groaned with frustration and closed the giant phonebook in front of her. She rose from her desk and marched over to Karen, the receptionist, who was busy filing her fake nails. "Karen, is this the most recent copy of the phonebook that we have?"

Karen glanced up and eyed the book that Christine was holding. It had been the third phonebook that she had given the pretty brunette. "It arrived in the mail yesterday," Karen confirmed. "It's the most recent copy that's out there."

Christine rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath. She had been searching for what felt like hours for the mysterious Erik Henry…and she could find nothing. After looking through three different phonebooks, Christine would have to concede that her masked rescuer liked to remain the enigma that he was.

"What are you trying to find?" Karen asked, without looking up from her nails.

Christine's face reddened, but she quickly made up an excuse before the receptionist could grow suspicious. "Just an interesting lead for my next column."

Karen nodded her head, before blowing her nails. "You know what I think? I think you should write a column on that guy…you know, the um…oh what is he called…oh! The Date Phantom."

Christine rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Oh come on, you don't believe in that myth, do you?"

Karen finally looked up at Christine, a look of shock written across her face. "What do you mean 'myth'? The guy exists! In fact, I'm pretty sure Hal has met him," she said with a matter-of-fact grin.

Hal was Karen's husband, and they had been married for nearly twenty years, but Karen had noticed an interesting change in Hal for about the last four months. He seemed so much more considerate, caring, sensitive, and romantic. He had only been like that before they got married, and then everything became routine. Now, Karen couldn't remember a time when their marriage had been more enjoyable. She actually looked forward to going home and seeing her husband at the end of the day! And she was positive, that Hal had somehow, received help from the Date Phantom. "Trust me, Christine, the guy exists, and is a miracle worker. I mean, four months ago, Hal had all these 'meetings' he was going to, claiming they had to do with work, but after these so-called meetings, he started acting differently. He made me breakfast in bed, and he never cooks! He read me poetry, and he hates that stuff! The man got some advice, I'm convinced of it, and I believe it was none other than the Date Phantom, to whom I am eternally grateful."

Christine gave a small smile, happy to hear that Karen's marriage had improved, but she had a hard time believing that the Date Phantom was real. No guy was that perfect…it just wasn't possible!

"Oh crap," Karen muttered. "What's _he_ doing here?"

Christine looked up and saw the very man the receptionist was groaning about. Her own eyes immediately narrowed at the tall, dark, and exceptionally handsome Brazilian man who had just walked into the office. "Tony…" she growled.

The sexy underwear model saw Christine, and despite the perfect smile that he plastered across his handsome, tan face, Christine saw the look of disgust in his dark brown eyes. "Christine…" he greeted, bowing his head just slightly.

Christine just glared. "What are you doing here?" she snapped, folding her arms across her chest and blocking his way to go past the receptionist's desk.

Tony's smile vanished, and a look of utter annoyance was replaced. "I came to see Meg."

"Well she doesn't want to see you," Christine growled, her hands now going to her hips. "So if you have some sort of message, you can just leave it with me and I'll make sure she gets it."

Tony frowned at this. "This is a private matter between myself, and Meg. So if you don't mind…" he tried to move around Christine, but she was too quick and continued blocking his way.

"Miss Giry is in a meeting right now," Karen piped up from her desk. "And her schedule is completely full. I suggest you do as Miss Davis says, and leave a message with either her, or myself."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Meg always has time for me," he grumbled, before trying once more to move around Christine.

"Oh, just as you always time for her?" Christine retorted. "You know, she gave so much of her time and heart to you, and you just spat it right back at her."

Any amusement that had been in Tony's voice before was completely gone now. "You don't know anything, and I suggest you step out of my way."

"I know that you cheated on her. I know that you dumped her via voicemail. I know that you broke her heart, you lying, backstabbing bastard," she hissed. "And I know that you're a complete idiot, since you have no idea how great, how wonderful, she really is."

Tony groaned and pushed his way past Christine. "I don't have time for this childish 'girl-power' behavior."

Christine stared at his retreating back and quickly began to chase after him. "Karen, get security up here," she ordered, as she took off after the Brazilian model.

Just then, the doors to the large conference room opened, and accountants dressed in suits and holding briefcases, began to exit the room, each pausing now and then to shake hands with Meg and other high-ranking members of the magazine. Stephen was standing at the back of the line, looking extremely nervous. He hadn't been paying attention during the whole meeting; he was too busy worrying about the introductions that would follow. After a long hour of rehearsing, he finally got Erik's seal of approval, and had to rush over to the magazine for the afternoon meeting. He only hoped he could impress Meg half as much as he had impressed Erik.

However, Stephen's thoughts were interrupted, when a tall, and very handsome man rushed forward, calling out Meg's name. Stephen felt his heart sink, and his stomach twist, as he instantly recognized the Brazilian model, and Meg's recent ex.

"Meg!"

Meg turned her head at the sound of her name, and her face went pale at the sight of her ex-boyfriend, rushing towards her. "T-t-tony?" She couldn't believe that he was there. "W-w-what…" she tried to sound more confident, but her voice was shaking with nervousness and surprise. "W-w-what are you d-doing here?"

Christine was following close behind, but stopped just short of where Tony and Meg stood, biting her lip, wishing she could step in and protect her friend from the asshole, but knowing that Meg had to face him right now.

Tony flashed Meg one of his sexy smiles, and reached out to take her hand in his. "Meg, darling, I've missed you, I couldn't wait another minute more, I had to come here and find you."

Meg was stunned, and could feel her legs turn into jelly. Tony was one of the sexiest men she had ever laid eyes on, and it wasn't just his perfectly tanned face, or his muscular athletic build, but his dark, chocolate eyes, that just seemed to have a power to undress her, not to mention his silky voice that had a hint of an accent. He also had a drop-dead gorgeous smile that made it impossible for her to say "no" to him.

But despite all those handsome and sexy features about him, he did break her heart, horribly. "W-what are you talking about?" she asked, in a hushed voice. People were staring at them, and she began to feel very embarrassed. She always tried to keep a professional air about the office, and the last thing she wanted was her personal life being displayed for all to see.

"Exactly what I said," Tony didn't even seem to be aware of Meg's discomfort. "I made a horrible mistake, Meg. I was an idiot, and I shouldn't have left…"

Meg's blush was deepening by the second. "Tony, please," she whispered, feeling more embarrassed with every word. A part of her wanted to believe him, but the rest of her just wanted to shrink away. "Lets talk about this in my office."

Tony shook his head, grasping her hands to his chest. "No Meg, I can't wait another second, I need you to know that I love you, and I want to marry you."

A huge gasp went up from around the office, and Christine looked just as stunned as everyone. Brian rushed over to her side, and whispered, "Do you think he's for real?"

Christine was glaring at the underwear model with suspicion. "He's playing her. He's turning his ex-girlfriend into his rebound."

Meg stared at Tony with absolute shock. "W-w-what?"

"I'm serious, Meg! I want you to marry me, I can't live another day without you!"

Christine bit her lip; Meg was a strong person with a heart of gold, but Christine knew how badly her friend had fallen for the creep. Would she backslide and fall prey to whatever loathsome scheme he was concocting?

Meg was trying to free her hands from Tony's grip. "Tony…I…why are you asking this of me now?"

Tony looked surprised by her question. "What do you mean?"

Meg rolled her eyes. "Everything! You come in here, after…after dumping me on my answering machine, telling me that you're in love with someone else, and now…now you're here, asking me to marry you without so much as a warning!"

Tony still looked confused. He assumed that Meg would fall into his arms, weeping with joy. "Meg, baby—"

"I think you've embarrassed Miss Giry long enough."

Everyone turned their gaze to the short, pudgy man, standing in the back of the conference room. Even Stephen looked surprised by the words that had come out of his mouth.

Tony frowned. "Excuse me?"

Stephen swallowed the lump in his throat and lifted his chin. "I mean just what I said. You are embarrassing Miss Giry, and should show her some consideration. She's asked you already to carry on this conversation in her office, but you have refused," he couldn't believe these words were coming out of him! "If you truly care about Miss Giry's feelings, then you would take into consideration her discomfort, but its obvious that all you care about is getting your voice across, and having the spotlight turned on you."

Everyone was stunned, and Tony looked like someone had dumped a bucket of pig's blood over his head. He finally found his voice, and roared, "Who the hell are you? Why don't you keep your piggish nose out of other's people's business!"

Meg looked at Tony with disgust, but before she could say anything to reprimand him, Stephen continued. "My name is Stephen Dulane, and I've worked on the accounting team for _New York Chique_ for many years," Stephen growled. "And in all the years I've been here, and in the last three years when Miss Giry has been editor-in-chief, I can't recall someone more arrogant, conceited, and self-centered as you, not to mention one of the biggest liars I've ever met."

Tony was fuming, but Stephen wouldn't stop. Everyone continued to stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed as the short accountant approached the Brazilian model. "Sir, I don't know the history between you and Miss Giry, and you're right, that's clearly none of my business. But you stand there, insisting on making it everyone's business, embarrassing her, and then you pull this so-called marriage proposal out of your ass, putting pressure on her to give you a public answer, thus embarrassing her further!" Stephen was practically toe-to-toe with Tony, and his next words were so low that everyone had to lean in to hear him. "And if you loved her half as much as you claim, you wouldn't be standing here, looking cocky with your proposal, but falling to your knees, begging forgiveness from this beautiful and extraordinary woman!"

Tony growled, and balled his hand into a fist. Meg screamed when she realized what he was about to do, but without any warning, Stephen pulled his own fist back and smashed into Tony's perfect jaw, sending the model flying backward, and hitting the conference room door with his head, before crumpling to the ground.

Everyone was just staring, not believing what had just happened. Christine and Brian felt like cheering, but were still in shock that this short, stout man had just taken out Meg's muscular ex. Meg stared at Stephen, her eyes filled with an array of emotions: shock, disbelief, joy, and awe. Stephen just kept looking down at the crumpled model, and then at his own fist, which was throbbing with pain. "W-w-wow…" Stephen gasped.

Meg reached out and clutched Stephen's arm, a grin spreading across her beautiful face. "Oh my gosh! I…I…thank you!" she gasped, her grin growing even brighter. "I…I…I can't believe…I mean no one has ever…" she couldn't help but laugh, and without warning, grasped Stephen's slightly pudgy face in her hands, and leaned up to give his lips a thankful kiss.

It was just a peck, but Stephen's eyes grew even wider at the feel of Meg's lips, and his face went from red, to pale, to red once more. Meg was grinning up at him again, and all Stephen could say was, "w-w-wow…" before crumpling to the floor, himself.

* * *

While Stephen was in his meeting, Erik was sitting in his limo on Wall Street, waiting for this stockbroker who Jonathon had called him about. He was growing impatient; the man was twenty minutes late, and Erik was already having a few misgivings about the guy. Jonathon never gathered a great deal of background information about his potential clients, but he always had a little to dispense. All Erik knew about this guy was that he was similar to Jonathon.

"How much longer should we wait, Mr. Henri?" Pete, the driver, barked from his seat.

Erik grunted. "Five more minutes. If he—"

A knock on the limo's window drew both Pete and Erik's attention to a handsome blonde gentleman, who stood just outside the limo on the passenger side. Erik grumbled for Pete to let the gentleman in, and he sat back, preparing himself for the first initial surprise of this stranger seeing him.

The blonde gentleman climbed into the limo, muttering, "thanks Jeeve's," to Pete, who muttered something under his breath, before shutting the door. The man then turned to Erik, did a double take, but then broke out into a grin. "Wow! I guess they weren't kidding! The Date Phantom…man, you go all out for this thing! Love the mask, by the way. Great touch."

Erik gave a stiff smile, before picking up a file folder and a pen. "Let's get to business, Mr. Channing."

The handsome blonde man simply smiled. "Please! Call me Ryan. And you're a man after my own heart," Ryan grinned, leaning back on his seat. "Why bother with small talk, let's get the heart of the matter," without asking, he removed a cigarette from his inside pocket and lit it up. "I need your help with finding an enchanting lady by the name of Christine Davis."


	7. Dinner Dates

**Summary:** Another chance encounter leads to an unexpected dinner invitation...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Dinner Dates_**

Erik stared blankly at the man who sat across from him, the words still registering in his mind.

The fact that the man was lighting up a cigarette without even asking if it was alright, bothered Erik immensely, however, that all flew out the window the second he heard what the man said.

"_I need your help with finding an enchanting lady by the name of Christine Davis."_

Christine Davis.

The woman he had met at The Plaza; the beautiful woman in the black dress, the intriguing woman who had stolen his breath, who had lost her coat, and who he had defended from a Neanderthal.

The woman he could not stop thinking about…

And this…this…_boy_…wanted her?

It had been a long time since Erik had felt the cold stab of jealousy, but the feeling washed over him like a bucket of ice water.

Ryan Channing didn't even seem to notice Erik's blank stare, he was too busy taking long drags from his cigarette and polluting the inside of the limo with its foul stench. "I have to confess, when I first heard that your office would be a stretch limo, I was thinking, 'this guy can not be for real'…but now that I'm sitting in here, I think you may have the right idea," he winked, before taking another long drag.

Erik's brow furrowed, and without any warning, leaned forward, grabbed the cigarette out of Ryan's lips, and threw it out the window. Ryan's eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to protest, but Erik held up one finger, a look of dark warning clouding his eyes. "As you said…this is _my_ office, and since it is such, you will obey my rules. And first rule is this…no smoking."

Ryan closed his mouth, although a sour expression now covered his handsome face. "Hey buddy, lighten up—"

"You obviously need to take into consideration other people's feelings," Erik interrupted, scribbling a few notes down on the folder in front of him, "and expressions like the one you're wearing only work on children age 5 and below."

It was Ryan who was staring blankly at the man across from him. Erik threw his pen down, feeling frustration and anger fuel through his veins; both feelings were directed at himself. He should have known better than to allow, even for a moment, the thought that he and the lovely Christine Davis had any hope. Now there was this other man, a handsome man who had no need to hide his face behind a mask, who was vying for her hand. Everything inside Erik screamed to dump this guy, to not even allow him to sit for one more moment in his presence…and yet another part of him was curious, and wanted to hear Ryan Channing's story.

Did this man truly love Christine Davis?

Ryan folded his arms across his chest, although he looked far from pleased. "I'm not paying you, _yet_. Until I start to do so, I don't want to hear your opinions."

Erik felt a growl rise up in his throat, but his dark amber eyes stayed focused on blonde man before him. "From the moment you seek me out, you've more or less hired me. And while I'm not getting paid, I will dispense advice as I please, since that is what I do. But perhaps you don't want my help?"

Erik made the motion to open the limo door, but Ryan immediately jumped to stop him before he could continue. "Ok, ok, I'll keep my comments to myself, but please…I need your help, desperately."

Erik nodded his head, although he could feel his muscles begin to go rigid at Ryan's words. "Why don't you tell me about Miss Davis?" it was amazing he was able to get those words out through his clenched teeth.

Ryan smiled at this and eased himself back into his seat. "Well…from the moment I saw her, I thought…wow! You know what I mean?"

_All too well_, Erik thought to himself.

"Anyway, she's unlike any woman I've ever met; I mean, sure she's beautiful, but she's intelligent, sweet, and a little sassy as well…something I confess I do like in a woman," Ryan said with a grin and wink.

Erik could taste blood inside his mouth. He realized then that he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself calm. Christine was indeed, all these things, and while he frowned at the way Ryan called her sassy, he knew that Christine was quite spirited, as he saw briefly at Carlotta's party. These were all traits that he admired in her as well…but why did this asshole have to admire them too?

"I tried to ask her out," Ryan sighed, feeling sorry for himself. "But she wouldn't hear me out."

Erik was intrigued by this bit of news, and lifted an unseen eyebrow in question. "Why do you think that is?"

Ryan shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know…PMS, perhaps?" He burst out laughing, not realizing that Erik was not sharing in his crude joke.

Erik narrowed his eyes at the laughing stockbroker, and folded his arms across his chest. "Perhaps if you tell me how you asked her out, I can better understand why she refused."

Ryan thought this made sense, and so went into explaining. "Well, I've come up with some elaborate stories in the past," he began. Erik frowned, not completely understanding what Ryan meant by this. "Sometimes the 'fake dying grandmother' works, and the 'ex-girlfriend sob story' is a classic," he grinned. "And I thought that the 'fake sister getting married' would work too, but it seemed to backfire."

Erik stared blankly at Ryan Channing once more. "W-w-what?"

Ryan nodded his head. "I know, right? It sounds like it would work! I mean, I planned it all out perfectly; I approached her, told her I needed some advice on getting my 'sister' a wedding present, and chicks dig weddings, so it sounded foolproof! But she—"

Erik had to interrupt. "Pick up lines?"

Ryan looked confused. "Well…I guess you could call them that, but…I thought you knew what I was talking about?"

Erik's head was spinning. "You…you don't know her? You just met her someplace…and tried to…to get her to go home with you?"

Ryan still looked confused. "Well…yeah. I mean, it's rare, but I have been blown off in the past, and normally I don't care, but something about her, man, I don't know, but you have to help me get her. I mean, she's got a sweet ass like you wouldn't—"

"STOP!" Erik roared, his voice causing Ryan to practically jump out of his seat. Erik was fuming…he couldn't believe he had been so blind! His next words were said through clenched teeth. "You…don't…_love_…her?"

Ryan's face was pale; he had never heard such a roar from a man! Who was this guy? What was his problem? "Love?" he asked, looking even more confused than ever before. "What does love have to do with anything? I just want to know what I can say to get her sweet ass—"

Ryan gasped as Erik reached across the limo and grabbed him by the collar of his suit. "Let's get one thing straight, shall we?" Erik growled, his voice such a deep, dangerous depth, that it made the ground tremble. "You will cease from talking about _any_ portion of Miss Davis' anatomy. Second thing," he growled, banging his fist against the divider between himself and Pete. "People like you are the slime of the earth! I don't help filth; I help good, honest men, win the hearts of the women they _love_. You understand me? LOVE!" Pete had scrambled around the limo and had opened the door, and Erik threw Ryan Channing out onto the pavement. "And you stay away from Christine Davis," Erik warned, his voice dark, cold, and dangerous.

Ryan groaned in pain and attempted to stand and shout obscenities at the masked freak that had just thrown him out, but before he could even sit up, the limo was already screeching down the street, and out of sight.

* * *

"Do you think we need to call an ambulance?" Brian whispered.

Christine simply shook her head, as she continued to gaze down at the accountant who lay passed out on the conference room floor. "No, I think he'll be fine. He just fainted, that's all."

"No, I meant him," Brian indicated, pointing to Tony, who still lay against the conference room door.

Christine followed his gaze and felt a smirk pull at the corners of her lips. "Nah."

A small crowd had gathered around the collapsed form of Stephen Dulane; Meg was on her knees, trying to revive Stephen by gently tapping his cheeks and forehead. She was completely oblivious to the older accountant who stood behind her, filling her ears with apologies.

"I'm dreadfully sorry this took place, Miss Giry. I don't know what got into Stephen. He's never spoken out of place before, and he had no right getting involved in the business between you and…" he glanced over at Tony and scrunched his face. "And your friend."

Meg wasn't listening; she was too concerned with her rescuer. No man had ever stood up for her before! She couldn't believe how this stranger just spoke up for her, and then to top it all off, knocked Tony out! It was a true "David and Goliath" moment. "OH!" Meg nearly squealed. "Oh, I think he's coming round!"

Stephen's eyes were slowly beginning to flutter open. His head hurt from when he had landed on the floor, and his right hand was still throbbing with intense pain. What had happened? He looked up and gasped as the most beautiful, angelic face, gazed down at him, her lovely green eyes lit with both happiness, and concern. "Welcome back," Meg whispered, and Stephen swore he had forgotten how to breathe.

"You idiot!"

Stephen's thoughts were interrupted by the shouts of his boss. The pain in his head began to grow ten-fold.

"What do you think you were doing, Dulane!? You know better than to get involved in other people's business, especially that of someone as illustrious as Miss Giry! Apologize to her at once!"

Stephen's face turned red with embarrassment, and he slowly lifted his eyes to hers. Meg was startled by the shame she saw in them, and she felt white-hot anger for the older man who was now publicly embarrassing him. "I…I'm s-so sorry, Miss Giry…" Stephen managed to squeak, feeling utter shame for his actions. No doubt she was upset that he had butted his way into her conversation, he should have stayed out of it, oh what would Erik think when he heard all this?

Stephen's boss looked satisfied by this, but his anger didn't fade. "Good. Now get off that floor and go straight back to the office and pack up your things!"

Everyone gasped and turned to look at the older accountant who was fuming with rage. Stephen's red face paled at these words. "P-p-p-pack up?"

"Yes!" the man shouted. "You're fired, Dulane! You—"

"YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!"

Everyone was now shocked by the sudden shout of the petite editor-in-chief. For a woman as small as her, she didn't look like she could possess such a powerful voice.

Meg rose to her feet, and everyone stared up at her, as if she were a giant. She glared up at Stephen's boss, fire lit in her emerald eyes. "You will do no such thing!" she hissed. "I am grateful to this man, you understand? GRATEFUL!"

The older accountant suddenly became a stuttering fool. "I…I…I'm sorry Miss Giry…I…that is…I didn't mean…I was only trying…"

"Don't apologize to me," Meg spat, before turning and looking down at Stephen with admiration. "Apologize to him."

The older man paled at this, but knowing that he needed to stay in good graces with his client, immediately apologized to Stephen, before offering his hand to help the man up. Stephen was stunned; not by the threat of possibly being fired, or now by his boss' apology, but by the way Meg had stood up…for him! No one had ever stood up for him before…he was always the last guy to be picked for a team, the one who had to work on holidays, who got the extra work that no one wanted to do, the loser more or less…

And yet, she stood up for him.

Stephen took the hand of his boss and rose to his feet, still amazed by everything that had happened. What would Erik say to all this?

Meg smiled at Stephen, before taking his arm in hers. She was about to lead the surprised accountant away, before she turned once more to Stephen's boss, and said, "you should also consider giving him a raise." The older man was sputtering from her words, but Meg didn't care, she was just grinning as she led Stephen away.

Brian and Christine exchanged glances at one another, each thinking the same thing: _Did that just happen?_ Suddenly, the two of them were after Meg and Stephen, their curiosity overflowing.

"Meg?" Christine rushed to her friend's side. "Are you alright? I'm sorry, I tried to stop Tony before he could reach you, but—"

Meg was still all smiles. "Of course I'm alright. Mr…Dulane, was it?" she asked. Stephen simply nodded his head. Meg grinned. "Mr. Dulane handled Tony just fine, I think."

That could not be denied. Christine smiled at Stephen, and Brian reached out to shake Stephen's hand. "Great job. I couldn't have done it better, myself!"

Stephen smiled back, although his confidence was starting to fade. This was more than he had anticipated! He shook Brian's hand once he saw that it was offered, and couldn't help but grin a little more when he heard Brian remark on how firm his handshake was. Just then, the security guards that Christine had ordered Karen to call, arrived. "He's down there, boys," Christine indicated with a nod of her head. "And please…feel free to toss him into the dumpster behind the building."

Meg smiled up at Stephen, grateful that her friend was handling the situation with the guards. "Mr. Dulane, I can not thank you enough for what you did."

Stephen was lost in Meg's lovely gaze. He tried to recall the basic principles that Erik had taught him. He took one step back, deciding to let Meg know that he respected her personal space, and he held her eyes, just as Erik had instructed, but he didn't stare either. _Sound confident! Sound calm!_ "You are most welcome, Miss Giry…but…my boss was right," Stephen confessed, looking somewhat ashamed. "It was none of my business, and I turned something that should have been private, into something very public, and for that, I am very sorry—"

Meg shook her head; she would hear none of it. "What you did was very noble, and very…" she smiled at the word she used next. "Chivalrous."

Stephen was struck by her words, and found himself grinning at what she said. Erik was a big believer in chivalry! "Thank you, Miss Giry, I—"

"We should celebrate!" Meg interrupted, grinning from ear to ear, looking at Christine and Brian with wide eyes. "Today, Tony got what he deserved, and I think that deserves a celebration."

Stephen's eyes went wide at this. Was Meg indicating that she…wanted him present?

"Do you like Chinese?" Meg asked him, her smile radiant as always. Stephen could only nod. "Great!" Meg beamed. "Let's all go out for Chinese; let's shut down early for the day and—"

"I can't," Brian sighed. "Susan and I have a doctor's appointment this evening. But boy, with the way she's been eating lately, she'll wish we have joined you for Chinese."

Meg smiled with understanding, and then turned to her friend. "Chris?"

Christine smiled and was about to answer, when her cell phone began ringing. She glanced at the number, and then immediately recognized it as that of The Plaza Hotel. "Hello?"

"Miss Davis? This is the concierge at The Plaza Hotel. I just wanted to inform you that we found your missing coat. I trust you had nothing of value in the pockets? We found nothing in them…Miss Davis?"

Christine shivered momentarily at the concierge's words. Her coat had been found. Which meant that she would have to give up the coat of her mysterious masked gentleman. _Even though he's unlisted, and I have no idea where to find him._

"Miss Davis?"

"Sorry," Christine finally answered. "Um…that's great, I'll stop by this evening to pick it up. Thank you," she murmured, before hanging up.

Brian was prepared to tease her once more, remembering how she clutched the coat to her like a protective shield…but one look at the sad expression on her face, and he chose to hold is tongue.

Christine didn't want anyone to know she was feeling unhappy over something so silly, so she plastered a smile on her face and looked up at her friend. "You go on, Meg. I need to stop at The Plaza."

"You could join us later?" Meg offered with a kind smile.

Christine smiled back. She wanted to join in the celebration of Tony getting the crap kicked out of him by the most unlikely of people, but the recent news from The Plaza had Christine feeling down. She was going back to that place where she had met him…but he wouldn't be there this time.

"We'll see," Christine smiled, before going to gather her things.

Meg grinned and turned towards Stephen. "Well, I guess it's just us."

Stephen swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. "U-u-us…?" he stuttered. So much for today's goal only being about introductions! He had not only managed to punch Meg's ex…but was now going to go out and have dinner with her! _Oh boy…what will Erik say to all this?_

* * *

Snow was starting to fall.

Not unusual for this late in November. Thanksgiving was only a few days away, yet the city looked ready to celebrate Christmas, and the snow only fueled this feeling. Christine looked up at the luxurious world famous New York hotel when the cab pulled up, sighing with a bit of sadness, before paying the driver and exiting the vehicle.

The doorman politely opened the door for her and Christine immediately went inside, heading directly to the concierge's desk, when the sight of a tall, broad man, with his back turned, stopped her.

_It's him! _

She had only met him once, but she knew, even by his back…that it was the masked man from only a few days ago!

Christine caught her breath when the man turned to her, and she couldn't help but smile at the surprised look in his eyes when he saw her. Did he remember her? What was he doing here? It seemed so odd, finding him here, of all places. And yet…it was right, as well. Right that she had found him in the very place where they had met…

"Erik?"

Erik swore he felt his heart stop at seeing her there. He couldn't believe that the very woman that had been on his mind for the past few days, the woman who he knew nothing about, but he could not stop thinking about…was standing there, before him, in the very place where he had met her.

_And she remembered my name…_

"Christine?"

Christine grinned and walked right over to him, her hand extended, and her toes curling at the sexy way he had said her name. He remembered! "Hi! Wow, I…this is such a surprise, seeing you here, again!"

_Oh my God, you sound like a teenager! Listen to yourself! _

Erik found Christine's smile infectious, as well as radiant. He hadn't forgotten her smile, and yet the one she wore now was far more beautiful than all the others. He quickly took her extended hand and gave it a firm, yet lingering shake.

"Yes…I…" _Think, you idiot! She's probably there for the same reason you are, just be honest and tell her! _"I…that is…I…" _My God, could you sound more pathetic?_

Christine hugged her arms around herself and smiled up at him. "This is so unexpected. I mean, I came here to pick up my coat, and…here you are!" She was beaming, she couldn't help it! It had been so long since she had smiled like this. "So," she cleared her throat, hoping to sound less strange. "Do you have another private dinner party tonight?" she couldn't help but giggle, and was so grateful that he also chuckled.

"No, no dinner tonight," Erik smiled back, a strange warmth enveloping him as he gazed down at her. "I'm afraid Carlotta booked the entire restaurant this time."

Christine laughed at his joke, and was not even aware at first that she had reached out and was touching his left arm. A shock of electricity went through them at the sudden contact, and Christine quickly removed her hand, blushing furiously, knowing that she had overstepped a line, at least most people would assume such when someone who was still a considered a complete stranger, reached out and touched them. "So…" she cleared her throat again and tried to look and sound natural, while inside she was berating herself. "What brings you to The Plaza then?"

Erik missed her touch the second she removed her hand, but he understood why. They barely knew each other…and yet…something felt so right, being with her. He felt like he had found a long lost friend…

"Well…to be honest," he was grateful she couldn't see the blush under his mask. "I remembered how you had lost your coat, and I was near the hotel, and thought I would see if they had recovered it." _Oh God, that didn't sound like something a stalker would do, does it? _

At first, Christine was taken aback by this announcement. He remembered something insignificant to him as her coat? But then she remembered that he had lent her his very expensive wool coat, was no doubt wanting the garment back. "Oh…oh yes, of course…" Christine quickly began to remove the coat, her face growing hotter by the second, feeling utterly embarrassed that she had allowed, even for a second, the thought of something…developing…with this masked man.

Erik watched with pained eyes as she removed his coat from her body. The coat was quite large on her. She had rolled up the sleeves so her own hands could peep through the ends, and while it ended just above his knees on him, it practically went all the way down to her ankles on her. In truth, the garment dwarfed her…and for the first time in his whole life, he began to see how beautiful, how sexy…that coat could be, when worn by the right person.

"Oh please, you have the wrong idea," Erik intervened, hoping that didn't sound as if he were telling her that her thoughts were wrong. "I was not trying to rush you, please, when I gave you my coat, I was giving it to you for as long as it took, no obligations, but as I said—"

Christine lifted her hand, and Erik quickly shut his mouth, knowing that he was rambling on like an idiot. However, he felt his heart lift at the sweet smile that spread across her face. "Thank you, again, for…well, for everything you did that night, but the need for me to keep this is no longer necessary, but I do thank you…" she hoped that sounded grateful, for she was. She just hoped that the disappointment in her voice was not obvious. "Well…I'm glad that we were able to meet like this, so I can give it back to you properly," she said with a smile. "My only regret is that I didn't get a chance to take it to the dry cleaners for you."

Erik took the offered coat from her hands, and for a brief moment, their fingertips brushed together, and another shock of electricity went between the two. "It was an honor," Erik murmured, and Christine felt her insides melt at the silky way he said those words. No one talked like that! And he had such a gift for saying the right thing…

"May I?"

Christine shook her head, and realized that Erik was holding her coat that the concierge had called her about. She smiled, and nodded her head. Erik also smiled, glad that he had remembered at least one basic principle. As he helped her with getting her coat on, his fingers brushed a few silky brown curls, and he could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo. They were standing quite close, and Erik fought the sudden urge to let his hands fall to her shoulders and pull her body back against his; she looked like she would fit against his frame so perfectly…

"Thank you…" Christine whispered, trying to keep her voice calm. She could feel the heat from his body in their closeness, and she began to imagine what it would feel like to be held in her masked man's arms, to feel his body against hers, to be kissed, to be…

_Get a hold of yourself, woman! Reel in those hormones…_

"You're welcome," Erik whispered back, reluctantly taking a step away from her as she turned to face him once more. Christine smiled up at him, and Erik returned the smile, although both of them were now looking nervous, unsure what to say or do next.

_Ask her to join you for dinner!_

_Get his phone number!_

_Don't let her walk out of your life again! _

_It's been a long time since you felt this way about a guy! Don't let this be goodbye!_

_Something brought you both here, tonight, and now you know that there are horrible, vile creatures out there, who are also vying for her, but for the wrong reasons! _

_DO SOMETHING!?!_

"I—"

"Would you—"

They both stopped and chuckled nervously when they realized they were talking at the same time. Erik gazed at her, and felt the courage rise in his heart, knowing he had to do this, he had—

"Do you have any dinner plans?"

Erik was surprised that Christine beat him to his own question. Christine was surprised that she had even said the words! True, she had been thinking them, but where had the courage come from? _Oh God, this is where he tells you that he has a wife and three kids—_

"No, I don't, actually," Erik murmured, taking a small step towards her, gently closely in the space between them. He was stunned! This lovely woman…was asking _him_ out?

Christine felt her face flood with color once more, but this time she was beaming. "R-r-really?" she couldn't help but grin. "Because my best friend, she's invited me to join her and…well, I guess you could say he's a friend now, too…" Christine added at the memory of Stephen Dulane. "Anyway, she's invited me to have dinner with her tonight and…and I would love it if you would…well, if you…" _Say it! Just say the word!_

"Be your date?"

Erik wanted to kick himself the second the words escaped his lips. Christine's eyes went wide, and he could feel himself turn paler than the white mask that he wore. _Great! Now you've done it. She'll definitely think you're a stalker now…_

"Yeah…" Christine murmured, her teeth biting her bottom lip to keep from grinning to broadly. _He said date! Oh my God, he wants to be my date! Wait, wait, hold on…don't scare him away now; just because he said "date" doesn't mean he's ready to make a commitment yet. _"I mean, it's just a simple dinner with friends…and you are more than welcome! Please, don't think you would be intruding, because you totally wouldn't be."

Erik couldn't help but grin. Christine had not only read his thoughts about being concerned of invading on her friend's dinner invitation, but she was not turned off the fact that he had called it a date! _Unofficial date, mind you._

"Well…" Erik smiled, feeling a new sense of confidence fill his being, and he offered his arm to Christine as he had done the other night when they had met. Christine blushed, remembering how he did that, and happily took his arm. "Shall we share a cab this time?" Erik asked, leading them outside to the cab bay. Christine simply grinned, feeling as if she were walking ten feet off the ground.

_I know it's not official, but…this is the first date I've been on in three years! Don't screw this up, Christine Davis!_

_I haven't gone out with a woman in nearly ten years! Just follow your own advice, Erik. And please…try to relax! _

Arm in arm, the two climbed into a cab and sped off in the direction that Christine gave the driver. A short distance away, Pete, Erik's limo driver, watched as his friend got into a taxi with a pretty lady. The old man smiled at the sight; the Date Phantom deserved the same joy he helped so many others achieve.


	8. Pleased to Meet You

**Summary: **Erik and Christine meet Meg and Stephen for an "unofficial" double date...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Pleased To Meet You_**

"Hang on, hang on…let me get this straight. You _punched_ the guy?"

Stephen bit his lip, but nodded his head, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat.

Erik was still amazed by everything that had taken place that night; Stephen's story just fit in with all the surprises that were going on. "And you knocked the guy out?"

Stephen kept shifting his weight in a nervous fashion. "W-w-well…I punched him and his head hit the door behind him…I think _that_ knocked him out."

Erik lifted his eyes heavenward. If only he were alone in his own home; he longed to remove his mask and wipe the sweat away from his face.

The evening was…interesting, this Erik could not deny. After his chance encounter with the lovely Miss Davis, Erik eagerly accepted her dinner invitation, forgetting all too quickly that they would be meeting other people.

Strangers. Erik hated being around complete strangers, especially in unfamiliar and crowded places.

He cursed himself as he realized that his nervousness was showing. Once the two of them got into the cab, a slightly awkward silence fell over them both. Christine kept glancing at Erik with a nervous smile, and Erik kept returning it, but the two of them nervously shifted their weight and adverted their eyes from one another. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all?

Erik was very much aware of his size in the cab. He never liked riding in New York cabs; they were too cramped, they smelled funny, and the driver would often spend more time observing him in the rearview mirror, than paying attention to traffic. Erik's knees were practically touching his chin, and he was trying to do his best to keep himself on one side of the cab. However, the driver was not exactly the safest man in the world; he took wide turns, and went around corners far too quickly. Every time he did so, Erik would hold onto his door, to keep himself from flying into Christine and crushing her. However, he couldn't deny that he didn't mind her falling against him…

Christine liked to think of herself as a down-to-earth, calm, laid back person. But ever since she met Erik, a strange anxious feeling, a feeling she hadn't felt in years, took over her senses, and she truly believed she was becoming a klutz! Erik was a gentleman and opened the cab door for her, but Christine, who was too busy smiling up at Erik and not paying attention to what she was doing, bumped her head against the doorframe of the cab, letting out a soft string of curses, which immediately had her blushing. She didn't want her polite gentleman friend to think she swore like a sailor.

As the cab drove to the restaurant where they would be meeting Meg and Mr. Dulane, Christine was all too aware of the silence that had fallen over them. It was one of those horrible silences where you could cut the tension with a knife. She kept thinking she should say something, but she wasn't sure what exactly! She barely knew anything about him, and she didn't really feel she had much that was interesting to tell. Unfortunately, talking about work was out of the question, as her penname was meant to remain secret.

Work. Oh God, Erik would be meeting Meg! Meg Giry, who was a celebrity in her own right, and who every New Yorker knew was the editor-in-chief to the city's most popular magazine! Erik would discover she worked for _New York Chique_, and Christine knew that her reputation as The Happy Single was not popular amongst the male gender. Erik seemed like a fairly intelligent guy, would he make the connection? Surely Meg wouldn't blab anything, but how would she explain she knew Meg? She didn't want to lie to the guy; that was no way to start a relationship!

Relationship.

_Easy girl, you only met the guy! And this isn't even an official date!_

"OH!" Christine suddenly felt herself flying to her right, and she blushed as she realized she was being pressed against Erik. The cab finished its turn, and Christine was once more righted on her own side, but her face was still glowing a dark shade of red. "S-s-sorry," she muttered, feeling utterly embarrassed…although for the brief moment she was pressed against him, she got a chance to feel how strong he was…

_The guy obviously works out!_

Without warning, the cab came to a screeching halt, and Erik and Christine were jerked forward. Erik paid the driver, growling when the man complained about receiving a small tip, which instantly shut the guy up. Erik's nervousness was going at full speed once he helped Christine out, and realized where they were.

Times Square. One of the busiest streets in the whole world! And Erik, who preferred solitude and quiet…was trapped in it.

"Are you alright?" Christine asked, noticing the way Erik seemed to tense up. She bit her lip, wondering if she had done the right thing. Maybe she should have just asked for his phone number? The restaurant was packed, that she could tell. A line was developing outside, and the streets were busy with early Christmas shoppers and tourists.

Erik didn't answer her question; he was too busy surveying the sight before him. His palms were immediately starting to sweat, and he didn't have to turn to realize people were staring at him.

Christine became aware of this too. Several people who were standing in the line in front of them started glancing their way, and their eyes remained focused on the tall man by her side. Christine glanced quickly up at Erik, and felt like kicking herself for her stupidity.

_His mask. They're staring at his mask!_ While she did not know the truth as to why Erik wore a mask, Christine could tell by simply looking at him, that it was not being done to make some sort of fashion statement. He looked uncomfortable, stressed, nervous, and she knew she was to blame for those feelings. _I really should have just asked for his number…but no doubt, he won't want to give it to me now._

"Hey," Christine put her hand on his arm, the contact immediately getting Erik's attention. She smiled up at him, hoping her smile alone could help calm him; she could feel how tense his muscles were just in his arm! "This place seems too crowded, maybe we should—"

"Christine Davis?"

Both Erik and Christine turned their heads in the direction of a waiter, who was walking up and down the line of people who were standing outside. "Christine Davis? Is there a Christine Davis here?"

Christine's face immediately reddened, but she raised her arm just slightly. "Yeah, that's me."

The waiter smiled, grateful that he had found the young woman he had been asked to find. "Your friend is just inside, with a table waiting. Please, come in."

Christine smiled back, although a part of her was deeply regretting the agreement to join Meg for dinner in the first place. She and Erik could be someplace private, away from prying eyes and harsh stares, and she would not be shocked if he told her he wanted to leave. After all, there was nothing keeping him there; he had his coat back, he could walk away…and right out of her life.

"Shall we?"

Christine's head snapped up to realize that Erik had been speaking to her. Erik felt like such a fool for allowing his own insecurities to get the better of him. No doubt Christine was sensing this, and no doubt he was making her feel awkward and uneasy due to his uneasiness. _Remember your basic principles! Your acting nervous is going to make her feel nervous! Be a man and suck it up!_

Christine smiled up at him, and took the arm he offered her, before the two of them began following the waiter into the restaurant. Despite the uneasiness he was fighting, Erik could still feel the warm spot on his arm where she had touched him earlier. It was different, compared to the way she was holding his arm now. She had initiated the contact, and when he had looked at her, her blue eyes were clear and her beautiful smile was tender. Erik wouldn't blame her if she told him to leave. After all, she had her coat back, she didn't need him anymore, she could just walk away…and right out of his life. But when she had touched him, and when he had looked at her…perhaps it was just wishful thinking on his part, but Erik truly believed that she didn't want this to be the end of their night…or their relationship.

_Careful, Erik. Don't count your chickens before they hatch!_

He would be supportive and do his best to make sure that she had a good time, and that he didn't embarrass her. She didn't have to invite him to join both her and her friends for dinner, but she did. Therefore he needed to be the kind of man that she would feel proud to have by her side.

The waiter led them through the busy restaurant, until they finally reached a corner, near the kitchen doors, that was just slightly more secluded than the rest of the place.

Both Erik and Christine were grateful for this.

"Christine!"

_Here we go_. "Hey!" Christine greeted, trying to sound bubbly, although she was also trying to think of how best to introduce her masked companion…as well as introduce him to Meg.

Meg was grinning brightly, her arms outstretched to hug her friend. Ever since Stephen Dulane had punched Tony out, she had been grinning non-stop. "Oh I'm so glad you're here, I was getting worried that you got lost in the traffic! I told the waiter to go outside and see if you were stuck in that line, and—oh!" Meg paused when she realized that Christine had not come alone.

Indeed, standing behind the pretty brunette was a very tall, and finely dressed, dark haired man…who just happened to wear a mask across his face.

Christine took a deep breath, and placed her hand on Meg's shoulder, before turning and smiling up at Erik. "Meg, I would like you to meet Erik—"

"Henri," Erik quickly intervened. He didn't want to embarrass Christine for the mispronunciation of his name, but he did need to get it straightened out. "Erik Henri."

Meg's eyes went wide, and she smiled up at the masked man as he took her hand in his, and gave it a friendly shake. "Henri? Is that French?"

"Yes," Erik replied, although his head was still spinning with surprise. The second he saw the young woman who embraced Christine, he felt his jaw drop. Meg Giry…the woman Stephen was hopelessly in love with! Christine knew Meg Giry? Meg Giry knew Christine?

Meg grinned. "I thought so! My mother is French, and while I was born in the US, I did spend a good deal of my youth in Paris. Are you from France? Forgive me, it's just that your accent…" Meg smiled, feeling slightly sheepish, but hoping that over all, she was coming across as welcoming and friendly. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Christine with a man!

Erik's head wasn't the only one that was spinning! Christine was staring wide-eyed at both her friend, and Erik. _Henri? You mean I've been saying his name wrong this whole time?_ Oh God, she wanted to die. What must he think of her?

"My father was French," Erik explained, relaxing slightly by Meg's friendliness. "My mother was British—Persian to be exact, but she grew up in Britain. My father was on business in London, and my mother was a waitress at a Persian restaurant that her family owned. They met there…and the rest, as they say, is history."

"Oh! That's romantic," Meg sighed with a grin. "So you grew up in London? That explains it, because I confess, I could tell there was something in your accent that didn't sound completely American, if you know what I mean?"

Erik smiled, although his eyes kept glancing at Christine. Earlier, she looked as if she had swallowed a porcupine; now, her face was glowing a bright shade of embarrassed red, but she did seem to be intrigued by his story. "I was born in France, actually," Erik explained. "But I did spend much of my childhood in Britain, and moved to the United States when I was eighteen. I've been living here since, so I have picked up a bit of an American accent," he explained, his eyes floating to Christine's.

Christine thought he had a beautiful voice. She had been curious to learn about his accent, she too had noticed it was a little different—and in her opinion, all men needed to talk the way Erik spoke. She quickly looked away when Erik caught her staring at him with wide, dreamy eyes. Meg had just met the guy, and yet she had been able to get him to reveal his family history! Of the two of them, Christine was normally the more confident and easy-going around men; but then again, she wasn't looking for a boyfriend then…

_Boyfriend? Easy girl, easy!_

"Oh! Stephen, there you are!"

Both Christine and Erik turned to the man that Meg was addressing just behind Erik. Stephen was emerging from the hallway that led to the restaurant's bathrooms, a part of him grateful that Christine was there, hoping her presence would help ease his nervousness around Meg, while the other part was disappointed that he and Meg were no longer on their own.

However, those thoughts quickly vanished the second he saw Erik_. Oh my God! Erik's here? How did he know that I would be here? Is he testing me?_

Meg grinned and quickly began introductions. "Erik, I would like you to meet Stephen Dulane. Stephen, this is Erik, he's a friend of Christine's."

Erik didn't think it was possible to stun him after learning that Christine and Meg were friends. He was wrong. The sight of Stephen there shocked him more than anything else.

Stephen's throat went dry, and he extended his hand to Erik, waiting to see if the masked man would give him a cue as to whether they should act as if they know each other. _Erik is a friend of Christine's? Why didn't he tell me that?_

Erik quickly took Stephen's hand in his and shook it, thinking it for the best that right now, they didn't reveal that they knew each other.

Christine thought she noticed something peculiar in the way the two men shook hands and mumbled each other's names, but Meg was totally oblivious. "Well, now that we're all here, let's sit down and eat! I'm starving!"

Erik's eyes went a little wider at this. "It's just the four of us?" He glanced at Stephen, and both men were thinking the same thing. _Now this looks like a double date!_

The waiter returned and quickly took everyone's orders. Out of all of them, Meg seemed to be the most relaxed. Christine's blush never truly seemed to disappear, something Erik couldn't help but notice. Was she feeling embarrassed because of him? Erik was trying to do his best with answering Meg's questions about Europe, while at the same time trying to get Stephen to participate in the conversation, rather than have him sit and blend in the with the walls. Stephen's own self-doubt was coming back in full force. After punching out Tony, Stephen had been on Cloud 9, and Meg couldn't stop talking to him. While they waited for Christine at the restaurant, she gushed about the magazine, and asked him a few questions about the accounting firm, but she didn't show him nearly as much interest as she was showing Erik. And who could blame her? Erik was exotic, interesting, and despite the mask he wore, quite handsome. He, Stephen, was…well, himself. And that was the problem.

"If you will excuse me," Erik said politely, rising from his chair. His foot purposely kicked Stephen's, who winced and looked up at the masked man to see why, surprised to see an expression in Erik's eyes that basically read, "you're coming with me!"

"Actually…I um…I'll be right back, as well," Stephen muttered, before rising and following Erik close behind.

The two men disappeared down the hallway that led to the men's room. Once they had gone around the corner, Erik grabbed a hold of Stephen's shoulder and pushed him against the wall, before hissing, "what are you doing here!?"

Stephen was surprised by Erik's actions. "I…I…I was going to do what you advised, honestly! But…well…things got complicated—"

Erik groaned and dragged Stephen into the bathroom, just in case Meg or Christine decided to use the women's room next door. The last thing he wanted was for them to overhear this awkward conversation.

The bathroom was empty, surprisingly. Erik turned and faced his new client, knowing they didn't have much time, and needing to understand what "complications" had taken place. "What happened?"

Stephen then quickly explained everything; his plan to simply introduce himself to Meg, Tony barging in, the confrontation between the two men, thus ending with Stephen punching the underwear model, and Meg asking him to join her for dinner. The story was so fantastic, Erik knew Stephen was telling the truth; no lie was that elaborate.

"I'm sorry," Stephen quickly apologized. "I know, I know, I was only supposed to make introductions, but the second I saw that jerk, I…well, I couldn't help it! He was purposefully embarrassing her, trying to make her look the bad guy, even though he had dumped her—"

"It's ok," Erik interrupted, running his fingers through his hair. "Needless to say, you left quite an impression on Miss Giry, and that was the goal of the day. You just happened to go about doing it in a way I had not even comprehended."

Stephen bit his lip. "You don't think I've jeopardized my chances, do you?"

Erik shook his head. "No, if anything, I think Meg sees you as quite a hero."

Stephen smiled at this, but quickly looked down at his feet. "I don't think she's seeing me as anything. I may have punched her ex-boyfriend, but any man can do that. She hasn't even looked at me since—"

"That's exactly why I wanted to speak with you," Erik interrupted. "She's not talking to you because you're not saying anything! What's Principle #1?"

Stephen opened his mouth to answer, and then quickly closed it. Erik's basic principles were starting to mesh together. "Um…confidence?"

Erik groaned. "Confidence does have something to do with your behavior, but it's LISTENING! What have I said about listening?"

Stephen closed his eyes, trying to remember the lessons Erik had given him. "Listening is one of the most important things a man can do on a date. By listening, you're not only showing her that you care about her thoughts and opinions, but…um…by listening, you're…you're…"

"Paying attention!" Erik muttered, his voice filled with obvious irritation. He took several deep breaths, telling himself to calm down, especially as some other men were now entering the restroom, all of whom were staring at Erik's mask. Erik leaned his head slightly and began talking in a hushed voice. "By listening, you're also paying attention to what she is saying. That way, you can participate in the conversation, and add comment to something she says. She'll realize that you really are listening, _when_ you respond!"

"But I have nothing interesting to add!" Stephen hissed back. "I've never traveled outside the United States, I don't know anything about London or Paris! You have more in common with her than I do!"

Erik shook his head. "That's not true; just because the two of us have once in our lives lived in the same city does not mean we have a great deal in common. You, her, and myself all live in New York City, does that mean we're all alike? Hardly. Stephen, I can only do so much; I'm trying to get you involved in the conversation, but you have to help me! No matter what, if you hear something that resembles something you can comment on, then comment on it! Alright?"

Stephen nodded his head, knowing that Erik was right. "Good," Erik sighed. "Let's get back before they send a search party."

As they were leaving the bathroom, Stephen grabbed hold of Erik's arm, his eyes filled with curiosity. "I didn't know you were friends with Christine Davis."

Erik shook his head. "I didn't know she was friends with Meg Giry."

Stephen found this fascinating. "Really? She works for Meg at the magazine."

Erik froze in his footsteps. "She's an employee for _New York Chique_?"

Stephen had nearly crashed into Erik's back. "Yeah…you didn't know?"

Erik's head was spinning. _New York Chique_ was a magazine he only dappled in to help his clients. It was very popular amongst single women, mainly due to a column written by someone who called herself "The Happy Single". Erik didn't think much of the magazine as a whole, and he especially didn't think much of whoever this "Happy Single" was. It wasn't the fact that The Happy Single was trying to tell single women to be strong and have confidence in themselves; that was something Erik very much believed all people needed. It was the fact that The Happy Single used her column to preach a propaganda that romance, in all its forms, was dead, and that no man could be trusted. If Christine worked for this magazine, she probably knew this Happy Single person…and may, perhaps, take the woman's advice.

If so, he had his work cut out for him. If he did get a chance to take Christine out…he definitely wanted to prove to her that romance was _not_ dead.

While the men were in the restroom, Meg couldn't help but grin at her friend. "So…spill?"

Christine nearly jumped when she realized Meg was asking her a question. "Spill?"

Meg rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Chris! Who is he? When and where did you meet him? And how come I only know about this now?

Christine shook her head. "It's not what you think."

Meg arched a brow at this. "Oh really? And what is that, pray tell?"

Christine glared at her friend and felt her face turn even redder. "I met him at The Plaza when I went to pick up my coat—"

"Tonight? You met him tonight? Dang, girl! You move fast! And here I thought you were this suave, single lady—"

"Meg," Christine growled, her voice filled with warning. "I met him on the night of Carlotta's wedding shower. I had lost my coat, and he was just being kind and lent me his."

Meg's eyes went wide. "Really? How come you didn't tell me this!? Some sexy masked man gave you his coat and you didn't say anything to me all weekend!?"

Christine blushed deeply, although a small smile curled at the corners of her mouth when Meg made it known that she also shared Christine's opinion that Erik was sexy. However, her smile faded, as a pang of possessiveness took control. "I…I was busy…you know, with typing up my report on the wedding shower…" _Man, I am a bad liar!_

Meg knew she was lying. "I think you mean, you were busy fantasizing about your masked boyfriend."

"He is not my boyfriend!" Christine hissed, nervously glancing in the direction of the bathroom. "He was just being a kind gentleman, who happened to be at The Plaza when I went to retrieve my coat, and I simply thought I would repay his kindness by getting him dinner."

Meg grinned. "So, will there be sex after your date?"

"MEG!"

Meg burst out laughing; the look on Christine's face was priceless. "S-s-s-sorry," she managed to get out between giggles. "But…you have to admit, asking a guy to join you for dinner, even if it's simply to thank him for his kindness, _is_ a date."

Christine folded her arms across her chest. "Oh really? So does that mean you're on a date right now with Stephen Dulane?"

It was Meg's turn to blush. "I…I…n-no, of course not, I am simply thanking him for what he did back at the office—"

"Uh huh, and that is different from me, how exactly?"

Meg was burning bright red. "It's very different!" she hissed, glancing at the bathroom herself. "I invited you and Brian to join me! This is a group dinner, not a date!"

Christine smirked. "Ah, but Brian isn't here, it's just the four of us. And I don't know about you, but some might think of it as a 'double date', then."

Meg glared at her friend and opened her mouth to speak, but just then Erik and Stephen were walking back towards the table, and their waiter reappeared with their food in tow. Christine blushed deeply as she felt Erik's eyes studying her, and Stephen was glancing nervously at Meg, trying to think of the best thing to say.

"Well, now that we're all back," Meg said, lifting her glass. "I propose a toast!" The others quickly lifted their glasses, while Meg led them in the toast. "To new friends!" she grinned at Erik and Stephen. "To old friends," she smiled at Christine. "And—"

"And to valiant rescuers who punch out idiotic ex-boyfriends," Christine cut in, smiling sweetly at a very red-faced Meg.

However, two could play this game. "Yes…and to gentlemen, who step in and offer aid when it is least expected." She returned Christine's glare with a sweet grin of her own.

Both Erik and Stephen glanced at each other with confusion, before downing their drinks before the toast could carry on any longer. "So Stephen!" Erik cut in, deciding to guide the conversation in the other man's direction. "Why don't you tell the ladies what you were just telling me about that book you had just finished?"

Stephen went pale. What was Erik doing!? "B-b-book?"

"Yes," Erik replied, his eyes telling Stephen to go with it. "That new novel you just finished?"

Meg smiled. "What novel is this? I love reading in my spare time," she leaned in as she awaited Stephen's answer.

Stephen swallowed the lump in his throat. While he hadn't finished a new novel as of late, he did like to read thrillers by John Grisham. "The Firm, by John Grisham," he explained, trying to keep his voice calm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erik smile.

Meg's eyes lit up. "Oh really? I've seen the movie, but I've never read the book. Are the two alike in anyway?"

Stephen could feel himself relax just a little more. "I prefer the book, to be honest."

Meg grinned. "That's normally the way of things, isn't it? Books are always better than their screen adaptations. I think that's why I normally see the movies instead of the books, I know I'll only be disappointed if I read the book and then see the film," she chuckled to herself.

Stephen couldn't help but chuckle as well. "I'm the same way, although I only read the books, instead of seeing the movies."

Inside, Erik was beaming for Stephen. The conversation continued, and he could hear Stephen's confidence growing by the second. He lifted his eyes then, and glanced, just briefly, at Christine.

Christine was watching Meg with interest. Based on Meg's body language, the way she talked, even the way she smiled…her friend was flirting with Stephen Dulane! Christine glanced at Stephen, and then back at Meg again. Stephen seemed like a very nice man, although at first glance, one would probably classify him as a "nerd", but the more she watched her friend laugh, talk, and smile at Stephen Dulane…the more Christine was amazed.

Meg had never looked this relaxed around a guy before! Christine had seen Meg with other boyfriends in the past, men who were notably handsome, like Tony. But there was always something about them that rubbed Christine the wrong way, whether it was their arrogance, their rudeness, or their obsession with themselves. Stephen Dulane was none of those things, at least based on what Christine could tell of the man. Meg was always trying to please her boyfriends in the past, always willing to do whatever it was they wished and put her own dreams off to the side. Meg had done things that Christine knew went against the very person that she was, all to keep her lousy boyfriends happy. Christine knew Meg was not comfortable with the thought of being single…but if her friend insisted on going out with someone…well, she just hoped it would be with a nice guy, like Stephen Dulane.

_Nice guys come few and far between_, Christine thought to herself. She glanced, just briefly, at Erik, and blushed immediately when she caught his eyes. Ever since he had returned with Stephen from the restroom, he had been studying her. Was he watching her eat? She knew that some guys were turned off by a woman who ate, and for a moment, Christine considered putting her fork down, or simply nibbling on small bits of vegetables on her plate. But she had never allowed a guy to dictate what she could, and couldn't eat before! Besides, what you see is what you get; that had always been Christine's philosophy when it came to meeting men. She had done her share of playing to a man's whims, of doing things that went against her better judgment just to make him happy. She had been miserable, and she had served her time; if Erik didn't like the fact that she ate, well…that was his problem, not hers.

Although, she really hoped he didn't have a problem with it, because she couldn't help it, she really liked him!

Erik couldn't help but smile as he watched Christine eat. It always annoyed him when a woman just ordered a salad because she was self-conscious about the fact that she was eating, and it annoyed him more that there were men in the world that drove women to do that. But not Christine; she was independent, levelheaded, strong-willed, and he found these traits to be very sexy.

The dinner continued for a few more hours. The tension that had been floating over the table seemed to be completely gone now. Everyone was relaxed, even Erik and Christine, who had joined in with Stephen and Meg's conversation. When the bill came, Erik offered to pay for it, but it was Stephen who surprised everyone by insisting that he pay for it. "Please, it would be an honor," he said, smiling and blushing slightly as he glanced at Meg.

"Oh you don't have to do that," Meg attempted to argue. "Please, you have done so much today, the least I can do is pay for your dinner—"

"Miss Giry, it would be a great pleasure to pay for the privilege of having dinner with you."

Meg was slightly surprised by Stephen's statement, and found herself blushing and smiling at his sweet words. Even Erik was surprised, although pleased with Stephen's use of romance. The man was a fast learner.

"Well," Christine smiled, rising from her chair. Erik quickly rose as well, and Stephen immediately followed suit, reminding Christine of a scene from the movie, _Kate and Leopold. _"Um…" she grinned, and blushed at their politeness. "I'll go and get us some cabs."

"Allow me," Erik smiled. It was the least he could do, especially after Stephen insisted on paying for dinner. Christine blushed and nodded her head, sitting back down as Erik went to hail their cabs. The restaurant's crowd had died down, but to Erik, it didn't matter. Even though he was aware of a few people staring at his masked face, he honestly had to say that this was had been a great evening.

A short time later, the others joined Erik outside the restaurant, where three cabs sat, waiting for their passengers. "Thank you," Meg blushed, as Stephen helped her into the cab.

"My pleasure," Stephen murmured, meaning every word of it. A part of him screamed to ask for her number, but one important rule that he did remember was to never push a lady for anything. As Erik had said, today's goal was to simply make introductions and leave a lasting impression. He would get her number later, and hopefully, have the courage to ask her out on a proper date.

Stephen waited until Meg's cab had disappeared around a corner, before climbing into his own. "Thanks, for everything," he whispered to Erik.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Erik whispered back, before patting the hood of the cab, and watching it drive away.

Now it was just the two of them. Erik turned, ready to open the cab door for Christine, but was surprised to find her frowning. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Christine's brow was furrowed. "There are only three cabs?"

"Yes, well, I could only get three," Erik confessed. "But that's alright, I don't mind walking, in fact, the wind's died down, and I have a very warm coat," he grinned.

Christine blushed and smiled back, although she didn't like the fact that he was willing to sacrifice a cab for her. A part of her thought that maybe Erik wanted to share one, but she should have known better; in the short time she had known him, he was proving to be quite the gentleman, and a gentleman like him would always sacrifice a cab for a lady…

Christine bit her lip, knowing that what she was about to do was rather forward, but she couldn't help it. She took the cab door out of Erik's hand, and pushed it shut. "Thanks, but I'll be walking," she told the driver with a grin.

"What?" both the driver and Erik said at once. Christine only smiled and patted the hood of the cab as Erik had done earlier to Stephen's, and continued smiling up at him while it drove away from the curb.

"But…we're in the middle of Time's Square…"

Christine nodded her head. "Yeah, but you're not wrong, it is a nice night, actually. And with December coming, one does have to make the most of nights like this."

Erik was sure his mouth was hanging open. Was…was she flirting with him?

"Well?" Christine grinned. "Shall we?" A part of her could not believe how bold she was being, but she couldn't help it! She didn't want her time with Erik Henri to end.

Erik shook his head, waking himself from his trance. "Yes, well," he cleared his throat, offering his arm to her. Christine smiled and took his arm, loving how he did that. "Lead the way, mademoiselle."

She grinned up at him, and felt her toes curl at the sexy way he spoke. "Merci, monsieur." She definitely was not ready to say good night to Erik Henri.


	9. Getting to Know You

**Hi all! Sorry about the lack of updates, but the holidays are over, and I have recovered from the lovely flu virus that my family left with me when they visited for Christmas--talk about unwanted presents! But I am finally updating my stories this week, and hopefully, fanfiction will also recover from its apparent flu outbreak. Anyway, hope you enjoy this latest installment to _"Date Phantom"_!**

* * *

**Summary**: Erik and Christine spend some time learning about one another, not to mention work up the courage to ask that one question...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Getting to Know You_**

New York City is notoriously known as being "the city that never sleeps". But as Erik and Christine strolled down its streets…it seemed that the place couldn't have been more peaceful.

In the back of Erik's mind, he kept wondering whether Christine wanted him to walk her home, and if that were the case, he began to wonder where in this vast city, she lived. What if she asked him to come inside? They barely knew each other, and the most gentlemanly thing to do would be to decline, politely, but then again, they weren't dating, and his decline may look like he was expecting more from her and in the end insult her, and…

_Oh let's face it; if she asked you inside, you know you would want to go in…there's no mistake about that._

Christine was thinking similar thoughts. Erik was the sort of gentleman that would insist on seeing her home, whether that meant ultimately getting her a cab, or walking her there himself. She lived on the Upper West Side, her apartment a good distance from where they were standing right now, which was just outside Central Park. She chewed on her lip as she glanced up at the masked man beside her, admiring his profile, but quickly turning her head before he could catch her gaze.

_It's been so long since I've felt…anything like this! This excitement, this fear, this longing…_

For several city blocks, they hadn't said much. There were too many sights and sounds around them to keep their attention, and the conversation that did pass between them were simple comments on those very sights and sounds. But now…as the city changed from its fast-paced noisy environment, to a more peaceful one…the silence that was passing between them was becoming more deafening than any noise on Time's Square.

"So tell me—"

"Do you—"

They both stopped and blushed as their words overlapped one another. Erik's mask hid his blush, whereas Christine's seemed to glow bright in the night air…something Erik confessed, he found adorable.

"I apologize," Erik quickly replied, smiling as he heard Christine's soft giggle. "Please, you were saying?"

"Oh no," Christine shook her head, trying to get her face to go back to a normal color. "Please, you were starting to say something, you go first."

It was always polite to allow a lady to speak first, Erik often told his clients, but once more, he also told them to never push a lady into something if she insists on having you speak first…therefore Erik did not push the matter and did just as Christine asked.

"I…I was just going to say how…surprised I was to learn that you're friends with Meg Giry," Erik murmured, cursing himself for how that sounded—like a bumbling idiot.

Christine paled just slightly at Erik's words. Was he bothered by her friendship with Meg? Why would he be? Perhaps it was because Meg was famous; after all, Christine could tell by simply watching Erik's body language at the beginning of their evening, that he wasn't entirely comfortable being out in a crowded restaurant surrounded by strangers. Perhaps he needed a little preparation before being introduced to someone popular like Meg?

"She's very friendly," Erik added, noticing the worried and confused look on Christine's face. He didn't want her to think he disliked Meg; Meg had gone out of her way to make him feel welcome.

Christine smiled slightly at this, glad that he hadn't been put off by her friend. "Yes, Meg is one of the sweetest people I know," Christine glanced at Erik, that sudden wave of possessiveness washing over her again, the same way it had earlier when Meg had commented on finding Erik sexy. Did Erik like Meg? Was that why he was asking?

_Oh get a hold of yourself! Don't you dare start playing the part of the jealous girlfriend, when you're not even his girlfriend!_

"I'm glad," Erik said, smiling down at her. "Good people who are genuine in their friendship are hard to find, so I'm very happy that she is that to you."

Christine felt the possessive jealous wave float away, and she smiled up at him. Had he been reading her thoughts? It did seem that Erik Henri knew all the right things to say.

_Henri. Oh God, I can't believe I kept saying his name wrong!_

"So…" Christine's palms were sweating. "You were born in France? That's…that's amazing," she frowned at her words. "Not that, I mean, the fact that you were born in France is amazing, I…although please know that I'm not insulting the land of your birth, I just…I've never…" _IDIOT! YOU ARE MAKING A COMPLETE FOOL OF YOURSELF!_

Erik bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. The last thing he wanted was for Christine to think he was making fun of her. "Paris is very beautiful," Erik intervened. "Although the French countryside is far more breathtaking, in my opinion. My father's family owned a beautiful vineyard in the south of France, and every summer throughout my childhood, we would stay there."

Christine smiled at this, imagining the man beside her as a young boy, running through rows of vines and grapes, without any shoes, as the hot summer sun blazed down upon him. "And you said that your mother was from England?"

Erik nodded his head. "My mother's family is Persian, and a large portion of them immigrated to England not long after World War II. They had a little restaurant, near Chelsea, and my mother was a waitress there. That's where she met my father."

Christine was enamored. "Please, go on? That is, of course, if you don't mind?"

Erik felt his face burning beneath his mask, but smiled slightly, glad that she was enjoying the story. "Well, my father was a young man, he worked for a law firm in Paris, that also had clients in London, so he along with several other young lawyers from that firm, were in London on business, and stopped at my mother's restaurant for lunch," Erik's eyes darkened momentarily as he remembered the story his parents had told him of their first meeting. "Some of my father's colleagues were brainless, racist imbeciles...still are, most likely. My mother was their waitress; they kept making rude, obnoxious comments to her, whenever she was present. My father was the youngest man there, but could hold his tongue no longer. He rose from his chair and threatened his so-called friends that if they did not shut up themselves, he would do so for them."

Christine's eyes went wide. "What happened!?"

Erik couldn't help but grin. "One of them challenged my father by grabbing hold of my mother's wrist, and pulling her down onto his lap, causing her to drop the tray of food she was holding and having it land all over herself. So my father responded as it can be understood. He reached across the table, punched the other man, then picked my mother up, carried her over to the safety of her family who were watching in horror, before proceeding to fight the rest of his colleagues."

Christine gasped. "What happened next!?"

Erik's grin was growing more and more. He was glad she was enjoying this. "The police were called, and they arrested the whole lot of them, including my father. My mother immediately followed the police car by bicycle, and with the money her family had given her, was able to pay the fine to release my father. My parents claimed it was in that moment, they knew they had fallen in love. My father stayed in London for an additional three weeks, doing everything he could to earn the trust of her family, and by the end of that three week period, he proposed to her."

Christine gasped again. "So soon? But they barely knew each other!"

Erik's eyes caught hers and time seemed to freeze around them. "Sometimes you just know you've found the right person…"

The two of them stared at each for a long time, neither speaking, neither moving, both completely lost with each other. It wasn't until a sudden cold breeze whipped past them, that they even realized they were practically standing toe to toe.

Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat and immediately took a few step back, her arms instantly going around her body and hugging herself to keep out the cold breeze that continued to swirl around them. "So um…what happened next? Did her family approve?"

Erik cleared his throat, amazed at how quickly he was breathing. "Not at first, no," he continued, pulling the collar of his coat up to block out the wind. "They were grateful for all that he had done, but they felt the romance that had been blossoming between them was moving too quickly. They were also old fashioned, and wanted my mother to marry a man who was Persian, like her. But my mother was a stubborn woman, and refused to see any of the potential suitors her parents attempted to thrust upon her. As for my father, he wrote to her every day, and every summer he returned to London in hopes to win the favor of her family. For two years they lived like this, writing letters and staying true to one another, despite the protests from both their families. And then finally…they gave in."

Christine smiled at this. "They gave their blessing?"

Erik frowned just slightly. "My mother's family gave their blessing. My father's? Well…he had a sister who stood by him, but everyone else…no, they would have nothing more to do with him, which is why I lived most of my life in England."

Christine stared at Erik as he told her this. She couldn't believe the prejudice of some people, and how they would allow it to tear their family apart.

"My aunt was the one who owned the vineyard," Erik explained. "She always invited us to her home in the summer. I went to school in London, and during the weekends, worked at my mother's restaurant as a bus boy."

Christine was amazed by this incredible story. "So what brought you to the US?"

"College," Erik explained. "I always wanted to go to school in America, and I have an uncle, my mother's older brother, who lives here, in New York. She relaxed once she realized I would be near family," he grinned.

Christine grinned back. "And you've stayed here since? What about your parents, do they come and visit often?"

Erik's smile faded at this, and Christine realized that she had said the wrong thing. "I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's alright," Erik reassured. "A few days before my eighteenth birthday, my parents were killed in a car crash, just outside of London."

Christine gasped and felt horrible for bringing the painful memory up. "I…I'm so sorry, I—"

"It was a long time ago," Erik murmured, reaching out and touching her shoulder with a reassuring hand. "I miss them, very much, but please, you have nothing to apologize for."

Christine liked the feel of his hand on her shoulder, and smiled back at him, grateful that she hadn't hurt him.

"After the funeral, I left with my uncle for America, and I have been living here since," he finished, before reluctantly removing his hand from her shoulder. He was amazed that he had just told her this whole story; he couldn't remember the last time he had talked about his family history. Did even Jonathon and Wendy know the whole story? "Forgive me," he muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I did not mean to go on and on—"

"Oh no, please don't apologize!" Christine interrupted, biting her lip and looking worried. Erik had just revealed something so intimate with her, the last thing she wanted him to think was that didn't care for what he had said. "Your family history is ten times more interesting than mine," she went on to say, hoping her words would reassure him that she wasn't bored by his tale, but extremely honored.

Erik glanced down at her and felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. "I doubt that," he grinned. "Please, tell me about your family, that is, of course, if you wish," he quickly added, remembering his own rules. "Are you from New York? Have you always lived here?"

Christine couldn't help but laugh at Erik's question. "Oh no, no, no, the city is extremely different from where I grew up," she giggled.

Erik was intrigued, and couldn't take his eyes off her. "Please, I would love to hear."

Christine made a face at his words. "It's nothing as fascinating as your story."

"I'll be the judge of that," Erik grinned, his voice filled with interest and curiosity. He wanted to know everything he could about Christine Davis.

Christine glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye, and couldn't help but feel all warm and tingly at the way he was looking at her. In the past, when a guy asked her to tell him about herself, she could tell within a few seconds that they truly didn't care, they were just making conversation. But with Erik…those apprehensive feelings, those doubtful feelings, those insecure feelings that she had always experienced with men in the past…were completely gone.

"Well…" Christine began, shrugging her shoulders and burrowing her hands even deeper into her coat pockets. "There's not a lot to tell, to be honest. I'm a midwestern farm girl; my dad is from Minnesota, my mom is from Iowa, and we lived in the country, and it wasn't until my college years that I ever saw New York."

Erik smiled down at her, imagining the woman before him who seemed to have such knowledge of this city, growing up on a farm. "Was it a great shock, moving from there to here?"

Christine shrugged her shoulders and grinned. "Yes and no. We traveled to the Twin Cities plenty of times when I was a kid, and my mom had family in Chicago, so I remember spending a few Christmas' there. But living in a city, and visiting one, are two completely different things," she grinned. "When I first came to New York, I didn't think I was going to last beyond a week…"

"But here you are," Erik murmured, smiling down at her, a feeling of pride swelling in his chest.

Christine smiled up at him and blushed. "Here I am."

An awkward silence past between them both, before Christine finally found the words to say. It was difficult to speak, especially when Erik looked at her the way he did. "So!" she practically blurted, before inwardly groaning at her tone. "You said you had always wanted to go to school in America. May I ask which school you attended?"

Erik smiled at her question. "Columbia, here in New York."

Christine's eyes widened. "Wow! You're an Ivy Leager too?"

Now it was Erik's turn to grow wide eyes. "Did you go to Columbia, as well?"

Christine couldn't help but grin, and felt her face flood with color once more. "No, but I did apply. Sadly, they turned me down," she sighed.

Erik stared at her as if she had grown a second head. "Columbia University had the gall to turn you down?"

Christine couldn't help but laugh at his comments, but Erik was completely serious. Christine came across as someone who was extremely intelligent and knowledgeable, and he could not imagine any place of any kind, having the nerve to turn someone like her, away. He frowned and Christine swore she heard his teeth grinding. "I suddenly have a great dislike for my alma mater," he muttered.

Christine began giggling, finding Erik's serious and angry expression priceless, as well as flattering. Did he really think that highly of her? But they barely knew each other! And yet, with Erik, his emotions, his words, everything—it all felt and seemed so genuine.

"Please don't be upset," she giggled. "In the end, I found a place that was the perfect fit for me."

Erik cocked an unseen eyebrow at this. "May I ask what place had the honor of having you as a student?"

Christine blushed and watched him carefully to see his reaction. "Harvard."

There was a long pause, as Christine's single word washed over Erik completely. "Harvard?"

Christine nodded her head.

"Harvard University, as in the oldest institute of higher learning in the United States, as in the first school of the Ivy League, as in—"

"As in Harvard, yes, I'm a Harvard graduate," Christine blushed, forcing a smile, although also feeling slightly nervous. In the past, if Christine were talking to a man and the conversation got so far as to discuss her college history, all the men seemed to lose interest the second she mentioned that she had gone to Harvard. She came to the conclusion that most men…if not all…must find smart women to be unattractive. How would Erik respond? She glanced up at him nervously, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip; she really liked this guy…

"Wow…" Erik murmured, the surprise still lit up in his amber eyes. "I'm suddenly feeling very inadequate."

Christine's face darkened a deep shade of red, and she opened her mouth to say something, although she didn't really know what to say exactly, but before anything could move past her lips, Erik continued. "Columbia missed out, but Harvard got lucky," he said, smiling down at her with a mixture of both pride and awe. Christine's already red face simply continued to darken, yet this time, a strange warmth spread throughout her body. She could feel the pride radiating from Erik's eyes, and it made her feel proud, special, and…beautiful.

"So we're both Ivy Leaguers," Erik murmured with a smile. There was still so much to learn about her, but so far, he liked everything he had learned…and how much, so far, they had in common.

Christine couldn't help but grin at his words. "That's right, we can both share in our dislike of Yale," she joked, to which Erik chuckled. It was a nice warm sound, rich and deep, and Christine wanted to hear more. Her nerves were beginning to subside, and she could feel herself relaxing more in his presence. "So, what did you study at Columbia?" It occurred to Christine that she had no idea what Erik did for a living, and she couldn't help but show her curiosity.

Erik also felt the same comforting warmth that Christine was feeling. It had been a long time since he had ever just "talked" with someone, especially a woman. "Music, actually," he answered, grateful that his mask covered the blush that he could feel on his cheeks. "I know, not exactly what one would call a 'career' choice, but—"

"Oh no, I think its great!"

Erik turned to glance at Christine and was surprised to see the sincerity in her eyes. She wasn't simply being polite, she was being honest; she truly found the idea of studying music, fascinating.

"I love music, and I love it when people study something they feel passionate about, as opposed to simply going to school to 'get the future high-paying career'," she groaned, before looking up at him with keen interest. "Please, tell me more. Did you study a particular kind of music? Or certain musical genre? Oh! Do you perform? Like on Broadway? Or teach? I—" Christine stopped herself when she realized she was asking more questions than he could possibly answer, not to mention she was probably coming across as extremely nosey. "S-s-sorry," she stuttered a little nervously. "Sometimes when I get excited…I um…I know I can be nosey, and of course it's your business—"

"No! Please, I don't mind answering," Erik grinned, his chuckle returning and sending pleasurable shivers down Christine's spine. He had never known anyone like Christine Davis, and for the first time in what felt like years, Erik recalled how much he truly did love music. "I'm sorry to tell you that I don't teach music, or perform…although I have considered it," he honestly said. He did seem to have a knack with teaching, just an entirely different kind of teaching on an entirely different subject. "I compose, actually."

Christine's eyes widened. "You're a composer? Really?" her smile brightened, causing a tinge of guilt to stab at Erik's heart. It wasn't entirely a lie, but by no means was it the complete truth. "Wow…I've never met a composer before. What do you compose, if you don't mind me asking?"

Erik couldn't help but find himself caught up in Christine's excitement. "I love all different kinds of music, but if I had to pick a certain type, a particular genre, it is definitely opera, especially that of the late 18th/early 19th century, particularly from France and Italy."

Erik didn't think it was possible for Christine's already striking blue eyes to grow any larger, but they did. It was her turn to look at him with awe. "So you compose opera?"

Erik had been able to hide his displeasure at lying earlier, but now was proving more difficult. "I've been working on an opera for a few years now, actually," he muttered, his eyes focusing on the trees that lined the sidewalk in front of them. "I've published a few works, some songs, a few cantatas…but in truth, they weren't exactly great."

Christine frowned at this. "Were they criticized?"

Erik shook his head. "No, but they never came of anything other than a means to pay the bills."

Christine gave a small smile at this. As a writer, she had produced a few pieces that were simply a means to pay the next month's rent. "I would love to see them," she murmured out loud, and as soon as the words had escaped her lips, her face paled before turning a deep shade of scarlet.

Had she just said that? Was Erik aware of what she had just said? _I have more or less invited myself to see him again and read something of his that is extremely personal!_ She couldn't believe her idiocy; this was the sort of thing that would make a guy classify a woman as "desperate", and she didn't want Erik to think she was intruding on his personal life, after all, he had gone out of his way so many times to ensure her comfort—

"Really?"

Christine was shaken by Erik's question, and glanced up at him, surprised by the look that greeted her. Because of his mask, Erik's expressions were hidden, making his face hard to read. But in the short time that she had known him, Christine had learned to read his emotions, his expressions, in the depths of his beautiful amber eyes…and the look, the emotion, that she saw in their rich, honey depths…was hope.

Hope. She couldn't deny that it moved her…

"Yes," Christine whispered, her voice soft, but strong in its sincerity. Her answer meant many things, just as Erik's question meant many things.

Yes, she wanted to read his music and see his compositions. Yes, she wanted to see him again…very much.

The two of them had stopped walking, and were gazing into each other's eyes. Time all around them seemed to have come to a stand still, and the city that was famous for being loud and bright, seemed to soften and grow still, as they gazed at one another.

Something wet touched Christine's nose, and she looked up to realize that it was snowing, ever so lightly. "Oh wow," she breathed, grinning as she looked at up at the millions of snowflakes that were gently making their descent to the earth.

Erik's eyes remained locked on her, and for the first time since…ever, really, he felt joy; joy in the sense that perhaps, just perhaps…he too, could experience the same sort of happiness that his friends experienced.

It seemed that with Christine Davis…anything was possible.

A cold gust of wind whipped past them, causing them both to shiver, and instinctively move closer to each other for warmth. Christine looked up at Erik and felt her breath catch in her throat, just as Erik gazed down at her, his eyes floating back and forth from her own eyes, to her lips.

"We should probably…" Erik didn't want their time to end, but it was getting later, and the weather was getting colder…

"Yeah…you're right." Christine murmured, knowing exactly what he was thinking, but also wishing that they wouldn't have to say goodbye.

A few cabs were coming down the street, and Erik lifted his hand, signaling one of them to stop. He opened the door for Christine, but she bit her lip, her eyes glancing back and forth between the warm inside of the cab, and the tall masked man by her side. "Share a cab with me?" she asked, hoping that she wasn't being too forward with her request, but it was silly, having him remain in the cold when the two of them could easily use the same cab to get to their respectful places of residence.

Besides…she still wasn't ready to say goodnight just yet.

This wasn't a date, Erik knew that, and therefore he knew that he shouldn't invade her privacy. But for something that _wasn't_ a date…he couldn't imagine seeing her disappear again, without so much as a proper goodbye upon her doorstep.

"It would be an honor," he honestly replied, before following her smiling face into the cab. The cab was extremely warm, but Erik truly believed it had more to do with Christine's radiant smile than the vehicle's heater.

After giving the driver her address, Christine found herself growing nervous again. She didn't want to simply ask Erik for his phone number—she wanted to ask him out! But how did one go about such things? Tonight had just happened, it had just fallen into place, but now, for the first time in three long years…Christine was anxious to go out on a date with her mysterious masked friend…and she had no clue how to ask him.

Erik was also experiencing the same problem; he had promised to help Stephen Dulane with winning the heart of Meg Giry, but when he had made that promise, he had no clue that he would perhaps get the chance to win a woman's heart…if that were possible.

_When one's face has more in common with pulverized meat than with human features, the guarantee of finding love… and keeping it…is more "none" than "slim"._

But this wasn't just some random, beautiful, charming woman that he had met on the street, or in a restaurant, or at a store. This was Christine; Christine, who wanted to see his music, Christine, who made him feel pride for his original dreams, Christine, who was making it abundantly clear that she enjoyed his company…

Christine…who knew nothing about the fact that he was also the "Date Phantom".

Erik realized he was chewing in the inside of his cheek; how would she react when she learned the truth? Did it matter that she know about his so-called "profession"? It wasn't like he was doing anything bad or immoral; he helped men who lacked confidence, he helped people find love, he helped women realize that Prince Charming wasn't as far away as they may have thought. And yet, despite all this reasoning, his heart was still filled with apprehension.

Erik shook his head as he realized the cab had come to a stop just outside a tall, brick apartment building in the Upper West Side. The topic of whether to reveal his "true identity" was the last thing for him to worry about; he had to say something to ensure that he would see Christine again.

"Well…here we are," Christine mumbled, as she gazed up at her building. She loved her apartment; it was small, but cozy, and it was the first place in her life that was uniquely her own. Yet right now, as she fidgeted in her seat, the idea of entering it seemed cold and unwelcome.

Erik's palms were sweating, as was his brow beneath his mask. It seemed that his mind, as well as his body, had frozen completely in this newfound nervousness. Where was the confidence that he had always ordered his clients to carry? Where was the so-called "perfect man" now? _Don't just sit there, you idiot! You got lucky and met her again, but if she walks out of your life this time, it's completely your fault!_

"Well…" Christine chewed on her bottom lip, her fingers gripping the handle to the car door. Should she just exit? Should _she_ say something? Or should she allow him to say something? _This is ridiculous! This is the twenty-first century, a woman can ask a man out, she doesn't have to wait for him to speak first!_ But the problem was Christine had no clue where to begin! _Just open your mouth and tell him you had fun tonight…at your odd, friendly dinner…and even odder walk, which you purposefully invited yourself on…oh yeah, that's going to go over well._

"Erik, I—" Christine stopped when she realized that he had already exited the car. She had been so busy worrying over what to do or say that she hadn't even realized that he had left! But before she could ask herself where he had gone, her door opened, and she looked up to see him smiling down at her as he held her door.

"Mademoiselle?" he asked, his smile warm and inviting, as was his hand, which he had extended to help her out.

Christine's insides immediately melted. "Merci, monsieur," she replied, a deep blush covering her face, but an even bigger smile spreading across her lips.

A shock of electricity seemed to charge through them both as their fingers touched, and Christine swore she felt her heart come to a stand still as he helped her up, and she found herself standing on a few mere inches away from him.

_My God, he's so sexy! And his mouth is absolutely beautiful…_

Erik swore he had forgotten how to breathe. He gazed down at Christine and once more, found himself gazing back and forth from her sapphire eyes, to her pink lips. _The last kiss I ever experienced was awkward and cold. Do I even remember how to kiss? Oh, but I wouldn't mind practicing for hours with her…and her mouth looks so warm, so sweet…_

"Hey buddy! The meter is running, so make up your mind whether you're spending the night with her, or if you're getting back in!"

Both Erik and Christine were completely shaken by the driver's rude outburst, and Erik cast the man a glare that was only one step away from death itself. Christine's face was the deepest shade of scarlet it had ever been, and a part of her wanted to crawl inside her building and die; she was so embarrassed! She barely knew this man, they weren't even dating…and yet she wanted to kiss him so badly. _Oh be honest with yourself, kissing was just one thing you wanted to do to him…_

Erik was also feeling incredible embarrassment. He always told his clients to hold off on kissing until the third date, no matter what! And here he was, feeling the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her until there was no breath left in his lungs…and they weren't even dating!

Yet. _I may be a fool for doing this…but damn it, I can't take this anymore!_

"Christine—"

"Erik—"

Both had been looking down at the ground out of embarrassment, and at the same time, both had lifted their heads and had spoken each other's names. An awkward chuckle passed between them, before Erik lifted his hand, indicating that he wanted her to finish what she was going to say.

_Here goes nothing!_ "I um…I just…I wanted you to know that…that I really…" _Oh God, don't clam up now! Get it out, girl, get it out!_ "I really enjoyed this evening," she managed to get out, although her words had been rushed, and her tone of voice and begun to squeak.

Erik felt the corners of his mouth lift at her words, and he could feel the courage rising within him. "So did I," he murmured, before locking his eyes with hers. He had to get this out now. "And…I would like…very much, if…if perhaps, we could—"

"Yes."

Erik was taken aback by Christine's sudden answer, and Christine herself seemed shocked that the words had escaped her lips. _Oh God, could that have sounded any more desperate? _

Erik saw the sudden wave of embarrassment cloud her eyes, but he didn't want her to feel embarrassed for her sudden answer, in fact, he couldn't help but feel such joy swell in his heart at her urgent reply. "Good," he honestly murmured, his smile warm, his eyes twinkling. "So…would you do me the honor of having dinner with me…on Saturday?"

Christine gazed up at the masked man before her, and swallowed the lump in her throat, as the sweet realization of his question washed over her. "It would be my pleasure," she whispered, a happy grin spreading across her face as she said the words that Erik had so often spoken to her.

The two of them were beaming and feeling such freedom for finally getting the very thing that had been weighing on their hearts for the whole evening, out in the open. It was official: they were going to go out on a _real_ date.

"What time would be best for you?" Erik asked. He wanted to make her feel comfortable, to feel like royalty.

Christine blushed but smiled, as she played with her keys. "Seven?"

Erik nodded his head. "Then seven it shall be," he smiled, his voice soft and rich, reminding Christine of warm chocolate. _Mmmm…chocolate and Erik. Oh God, reign in the hormones! _

Erik slowly began to back away, his eyes never leaving those of Christine's. But before she was out of reach, Erik broke yet another of his basic principles, and initiated physical contact, by taking her hand, and lifting it to his lips.

Christine froze and held her breath as she felt Erik's lips touch her skin. God in heaven, if this was what his lips felt like on her hand…oh what they would feel like against her own…or on other places of her body…

"Goodnight, Christine," he whispered, before releasing her hand and backing up until he was standing beside the cab.

Christine was tingling, and trying her best to keep the wicked thoughts that kept clouding her senses from showing in her eyes…which she knew was proving next to impossible. "Goodnight, Erik," she whispered back, smiling as she knew he was the sort of man who would wait until she was safe inside, before turning and leaving. She unlocked the door to her apartment building and turned to smile at him one last time…before finally going through the door and disappearing.

Erik let out a long, shuddering sigh, before finally turning and climbing back inside the cab. He barked his address to the driver, who kept his snide remarks to himself after the icy glare that Erik gave him in the rearview mirror.

A date. Erik Henri, a man who had made it his mission to help other men find romance, but who had given up on finding it for himself…was going out on a date.

Inside her apartment, Christine was leaning against the inside of her apartment door, letting out a long sigh as she gazed up at the ceiling, her grin never fading.

A date. Christine Davis, the woman known as the Happy Single for _New York Chique_, a woman who had more or less given up on ever finding romance…was going out on a date.

The cab drove Erik away further and further from Christine's small corner of New York City, and yet despite that growing distance, there was one thought that both of them were feeling: Saturday was simply too far away!


	10. Countdown to Date Night

**Summary: **_New York Chique_ receives a new intern...who happens to be Christine's #1 fan! Christine's nerves are growing and growing as Saturday gets closer, and Meg is in an utter panic as she realizes she doesn't have a date for a very important event! Is there someone who can rescue her?

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Countdown to Date Night_**

The week was passing by at a snail's pace.

By Wednesday, Christine began to fidget. By Thursday, she was practically squirming. By Friday, she was a complete ball of nerves that seemed to jump at the slightest sound.

"Christine, I hope that's only decaf in your mug," Brian muttered, passing by her cubicle and noticing how she practically jumped when he spoke. What had gotten into her lately?

He remembered her walking into the office the day after Meg's "celebration", and she seemed to be floating on cloud nine. It was different from the other day, when she came into the office wearing that mysterious coat. He threw a few teasing remarks at her, just as he had done then, but this time…she didn't even get the least bit irritated. She simply smiled sweetly at him, and at one point, rose to walk over to his cubicle to pat him on the head. But as the week passed, he began to notice a new change in her…one that seemed to be on edge.

Nervous? Absolutely. Excited? So it seemed. Tense? On Friday, Christine was tapping a pencil against an empty coffee mug at a non-stop quick pace, and it was driving her coworkers insane! "Chris, would you calm down?"

Christine glanced up at Brian, surprised to find him standing over her cubicle. "W-w-what?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "What's bothering you?" he reached down and took the pencil right out of her hands. "I've never seen you like this before…" he began chuckling, thinking that perhaps what she needed was one of his many ill-humored jokes, so that she could tell him to take the pencil that he now held, and where exactly to stick it. That, at the very least, would be normal behavior. "What's up, big date this weekend?"

Christine was leaning back, trying to calm down, but at Brian's next sentence, she practically fell out of her chair. Brian reached out and grabbed her wrist to keep her from doing so, and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Ok, now I _know_ something is up, so tell me!"

Christine was fussing with her chair, avoiding Brian's eyes as much as possible. "There's nothing to tell," she muttered, double-checking the stableness of her chair, before finally sitting back down in it.

"Yeah right," Brian muttered. "Something is going on, something along the lines of a date, isn't there?"

Christine refused to meet his eyes. She chose instead to focus on the computer screen in front of her.

Brian studied her and couldn't help but chuckle. "You should never be your own defense attorney," he laughed, pleased to see Christine giving him a glare. "That's better, that's the girl I know," he teased some more, his laughter growing as Christine, politely, gave him the finger. "Ok! Good to see that you're back to your normal self, at least around me," he teased. "Now, who is the lucky guy?"

Christine paled, and then blushed deeply at his words. "W-w-what?"

"Oh come on, Chris, you think I'm just going to drop the subject?" he poked his tongue out at her. "Is it because you're the 'Happy Single'? You don't want your own coworkers to know?" Suddenly, realization hit Brian, and his eyes went wide as he stared back at her. "Oh my God, it's the coat-guy, isn't it!?"

"Shut up!" Christine hissed at him, looking around, hoping no one else was watching them.

Brian was beaming. "It totally is, isn't it?"

Christine rose from her chair and began marching to the staff lounge to pour some coffee into her empty mug. Brian was right at her heels. "Who is he? What's his name? Besides 'the coat guy', of course. When am I going to meet him?"

Christine rounded on him, her eyes blazing with annoyance. "Meet him? Why do you think I would allow _you_ of all people to meet him?"

Brian was grinning. "Because I'm the closest thing you have to an annoying father-figure in this city," he laughed. "Someone has to measure the guy up, to make sure he's worthy of our little Christine," he teased. "And I may not have naked baby pictures, but it is my right, and privilege, to embarrass you in front of him."

Christine was fuming. "As long as I live and breathe, I will do everything in my power to make sure the two of you do NOT cross paths," she hissed, before stomping over to the coffee pot and pouring herself a hot cup of the recommended decaf.

Brian stuffed his hands in his pockets, chuckling the whole while as he watched Christine fume. "Well, you at least answered my question," he grinned.

Christine grumbled something under her breath. She knew that he had used his whole teasing tactics in order to get her to admit she was going out on a date, and it was with the coat-guy—Erik!

"But seriously," Brian said, his laughter dying down slightly. "This guy must be something special; I can remember the last time I saw you go out on a date! I would like to meet the guy—"

"Oh no," Christine shook her head as she poured cream and sugar into her coffee. "Your tactics may have worked with getting me to spill some information to you, but they will certainly work against you with meeting him…besides, this is just a first date!" _And one that I hope will lead to many more…_

Brian was still grinning. "It was a risk that I believed was worth taking," he sighed. "But if that first date does give way to a second, please consider my offer."

Christine lifted an eyebrow at this. "Offer?"

Brian nodded his head. "Susan and I won a four pack of New York Knicks tickets back in October from some radio show. There's a game in two weeks, and I think it would be the perfect environment for all of us to get to know one another."

Christine paled just slightly at this. A perfect, and _very_ _public_, environment. Christine remembered the discomfort she had noticed in Erik when they were in Times Square, and inside the restaurant. She could never force him into that sort of situation again, and taking him to Madison Square Garden, where he would be surrounded by a thousand screaming strangers, as well as television cameras…no, she would not do that to him.

Oh gosh, get a hold of yourself; you still have to get through your first date with him. Don't start planning the wedding yet!

"Christine?"

Both Christine and Brian turned their heads to see Karen, the receptionist, standing in the doorway of the staff lounge, with a young woman standing by her side, whose eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Christine, this is Laura Collins, she's our new office intern, and she just told me she's a fellow Harvard alum," Karen explained.

Christine brightened at this news, more so because it was a welcome distraction from Brian's questions. "Laura, very nice to meet you," Christine grinned, stepping forward to shake the girl's hand.

Laura's eyes widened even more. She had bouncy, curly red hair that she was trying to control with a ponytail; she wore wide, black-rimmed glasses, the kind made famous by librarians, a bright blue sweater, and a blue plaid skirt to match. Save for the red hair, she reminded Christine of herself when she had come to New York to work as an intern.

"Miss Davis, I just…oh wow!" Laura gushed, shaking Christine's hand heartily. "Oh it is such an honor to meet you! I major in journalism too, and you are my favorite writer by far! The professors still talk about you, how you are definitely one of the best journalists the university paper has had in the past decade! And when they told me I would get to come here, to New York, to intern at _New York Chique_…and I discovered that YOU worked here…oh, I just couldn't help but scream!"

Brian couldn't help but chuckle. "Maybe we should only have decaf in the staff lounge from now on?"

Christine threw him a glare, before smiling once more at Laura. "Thank you, although you flatter me too much, I wasn't that good—"

Laura gasped in shock, and shook her head wildly, her ponytail bouncing from side to side. "Oh no, it's the truth! Professor Quinn raves about your talents all the time!"

Christine frowned at this. _Ah yes, bad boyfriend #5, the doting journalism professor who fed me that line, and who turned out to only be interested in my bedroom talents…_

"Well, don't believe everything you're told…or read," Christine muttered, before leading the girl back towards her desk. "Now, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Laura spent the next half-hour gushing over how much she admired Christine, about articles that Christine had once written for the university newspaper, and she even mentioned how she had discovered, while doing research, that Christine had submitted a short story to a literary magazine that the school had produced one spring. "I never knew that you wrote anything outside of journalism, so I was quite surprised upon finding it! And I know I have been filling your ears with praises, but I can't help it, it was a fantastic story! You have such talent Miss Davis, I can't begin to describe—"

Christine had to cut in. "Laura, believe me when I tell you that you are too kind, and I do not deserve as much praise as you have been giving me." Laura opened her mouth to protest, but Christine lifted her hand in hopes to silence the girl. She was truly flattered by the young woman's admiration, but she hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise since Laura had started talking! "Let's take the focus away from me…" Christine said with a smile, "and talk about your hopes with working in New York and interning here."

Laura blushed deeply, but her face lit up with a big smile. "Oh gosh, where do I begin? Well…I've always had a passion for writing, especially journalism. Many people thought I would want to do hard-hitting news, and strive to work for a major newspaper, but actually…" she blushed and played with the ends of her skirt as she said this. "During my freshman year at Harvard, I got the flu, and I mean it was horrible, I was as sick as a dog, I couldn't get out of bed for a whole week, I had stuff coming out at both—" she stopped herself when she realized that this part of her conversation was completely irrelevant…and rather disgusting. "Anyway, my roommate lent me old copies of her favorite magazine, which happens to be…" she grinned, "_New York Chique_. And I was flipping through it, reading the different lifestyle articles, looking at the fashion photos, all that stuff, finding it fun, but honestly not thinking much more…and then I paused when I came upon an article written by someone known as 'The Happy Single'."

Christine paled at Laura's news. The magazine strived to keep her identity a secret, but somehow this college senior had learned the truth.

"Oh don't be alarmed, please!" Laura gasped, reaching out and grasping Christine's hand. "It wasn't easy, making the connection. In fact, no 'normal' person would have made it, I just happened to be a nerd for your work, which is how I realized that you…and The Happy Single…were in fact, the same person."

This puzzled Christine. "What do you mean, exactly?"

Laura blushed once more as she explained. "I don't know if you remember this, but…there was an editorial you had written for the university paper, talking about how society pressures women to act less intelligent than their male peers…and complaining about the women who actually do fall prey to these pressures, and act like…what was the phrase you used? Like 'peroxide bimbos who show more cleavage than intelligence'."

Christine blushed and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Needless to say, Carlotta had been the inspiration for that article.

"Anyway, there were several phrases that you had used in that editorial…that I also recognized in your column in _New York Chique_. That was how I made the connection, and my suspicions were later confirmed when I learned that you were doing some sort of journalism job in New York City, but no one seemed to know with whom you worked for. Knowing that the identity of The Happy Single is a big secret, well…I just put two and two together."

"Clever…" Christine sighed; she actually felt pleasant surprise at the way Laura had pieced it all together. "Sounds to me like your route would be investigative journalism."

The redhead's eyes went wide, wider than the rims of her glasses at these words. "Oh gosh, I…I don't know about that," she blushed deeply. "I just…I really admire your work. I think it's inspirational to women everywhere, I mean, I used to be one of those girls, a girl who believed that my self-worth lied in who my boyfriend was, or what I was doing on a Saturday night, but your articles were just so…so strong and passionate! And that's what I want to do; I want to help inspire people, especially young women in high school and college."

Christine couldn't help but smile with pride at the young intern. "Well…I have to admit, I do feel inspired now, after hearing you," she grinned. "Alright, well, I'm going to look at the portfolio that Karen said you brought, and your first assignment," Christine explained, while scribbling a message down on a post-it note, "is to take this folder, with this message, to editing; it's for our December issue which is scheduled to come out next week, so I'm really behind," Christine bit her lip. "Anyway, take this down to them, and while you're there, get to know the people in editing, since they'll be the ones you'll interact with the most. Oh, and find out from them what their thoughts were on those photo negatives that I gave them."

Laura grinned and nodded her head, just feeling so excited at her first assignment for _New York Chique_, and for helping Christine Davis. She took the folder and post-it note, and quickly walked down the hallway in the direction Christine had pointed, a skip practically in her step.

"Looks like you have a fan club," Brian grinned, emerging from his cubicle.

Christine groaned at the sight of her friend. "Not now, ok? That conversation is over and done with, and as for your…invitation…I don't want to make any plans for the future, because I don't want to jinx tomorrow!"

Brian cocked an eyebrow at this. "I wonder what young Miss Collins will think, once she learns that her idol, The Happy Single, is actually going out on a date."

Christine glared at Brian. "I can still help women feel inspired and empowered and unashamed for being single…AND go out on a date," she argued, wishing she had something to fling at him.

The teasing smile that Brian always held for her drifted away then, and for the first time in a long time, Christine was reminded how much older he was. "Chris…" Brian pulled over his desk chair until he was sitting next to her. "There's no shame in being single, or in a relationship. I don't have to tell you that," he murmured with a tender smile. "And despite all my teasing, I really do hope that this goes wonderfully for you."

Christine looked down at her lap, before lifting her eyes to her friend's and smiling. "Thanks, Brian. I appreciate that."

Brian grinned and reached over to give his former mentee a hug. "I still want to meet him, though," he argued, trying to look stern. "Your dad would insist that someone play his part in all this."

Christine rolled her eyes and punched Brian on the shoulder. "Gone was that tender moment," she grumbled, before giggling. Brian joined in her laughter, before rising to push his chair back…but as he was going, he paused, and turned to her once more.

"Hey Chris, is something wrong with Meg?"

Christine paled at these words. Wrong? Was Meg upset? Did Tony attempt to talk to her again? She hadn't seen her friend all week; she had been too busy trying to get her articles finished for the December issue, as well as too busy worrying over her Saturday evening with Erik. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Brian sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, I just…I went to her office while you were talking with your #1 fan," he gestured in the direction Laura had gone, "and she seemed to be…in utter shambles."

Christine frowned at this, and quickly rose from her desk, briskly walking towards Meg's office, which was at the end of the hall, and which overlooked a spectacular view of downtown New York. Meg's personal secretary looked extremely frazzled, the woman's hair was sticking out in all directions, her desk was an utter mess, and she seemed to be juggling several tasks at once.

"Joanne, is Meg in?" Christine asked, hating to bother the already over-stressed secretary.

"Oh!" the older woman gasped, before patting her chest to calm herself down. "I'm sorry, Christine, you startled me," she attempted to tuck one piece of fallen gray hair back in place. "And thank God you're here…Meg is in absolute need, please, please go in at once and speak with her!"

Christine didn't need to be told twice, she quickly entered the office, and gasped as she took in the sight.

There were clothes, literally, everywhere! On the floor, hanging off the sofa, the desk, even one of the light fixtures. In one corner of the office, were several old boxes that once contained take-out from a variety of restaurants, while in another corner, were several piles of expensive shoes. The floor was also littered with crumpled wads of paper, and Christine noticed that the desk was covered with different brands of make-up, and surrounded by different handbags.

"Meg?"

Meg was nowhere to be seen when Christine first entered the office, but suddenly, out from behind a closet door, the petite copper-blonde poked her head out, startling Christine completely. "Oh Chris! Thank God you're here!"

Christine's eyes widened as her friend ran out from the closet door she had been hiding behind, wearing only a flesh-colored strapless bra, a white slip, and nude stockings. Her reddish gold hair was up in curlers, and she was clearly experimenting with make-up: one side of her face had soft, earth tones and a pale pink blush, while the other had a more striking fuchsia color, that deeply contrasted the dark blue eye shadow that she wore over one eye.

"Good God Meg, what on earth…?"

Meg rolled her eyes and grabbed Christine's hands and pulled her towards a giant mirror that lay opposite of Meg's desk. "I am frantic for some advice," she moaned, grabbing several dresses that had been thrown on the ground and tossing them into Christine's unsuspecting arms. "You remember Simon Patrillo?"

Christine thought for a second. Why did that name sound familiar?

"Simon Patrillo…as in Patrillo Fashions?" Meg muttered in utter annoyance.

"Oh, yes, now I remember," Christine lied. Unlike Meg, she was never into the fashion scene. She dressed professionally and had attended a few events in support of the magazine, but she rarely went to any of the fashion shows that some of their clients threw. "So that explains it," Christine whispered to herself, looking at all the different outfits strewn across the office. "Does Simon have a show coming up?"

Meg froze, and stared at Christine as if she had grown a third arm right out of the top of her head. "CHRISTINE!" she practically screeched. "THE SHOW IS TONIGHT!"

Christine's ears were paying the price for her ignorance. "Ok, ok, sorry, dumb question," she apologized, hoping that anything would calm her friend down. Meg was a wonderful editor-in-chief; she always did what she could to make the clients of _New York Chique_ happy, and she always took it upon herself, both as editor-in-chief, and as the daughter of a famous fashion icon, to attend any fashion event that went on in New York City. "Alright, so Simon Patrillo's show is tonight, and you obviously need help with trying to decide what outfit to wear…"

Meg groaned, and without another word, turned away and collapsed on top of a heap of clothes that already covered her office sofa. "If only that _were_ the problem…" she grumbled, looking absolutely miserable.

Christine bit her lip and carefully set the many piles of clothes that Meg had thrown into her arms, down gently on a nearby chair, before coming to sit beside her friend. "What do you mean, exactly? What _is_ the problem?"

Meg glanced at her best friend, before turning her head and groaning some more. "You of all people will think so little of me when I tell you…"

Christine rolled her eyes. "No I will not, don't be stupid. What is it, Meg? Tell me?"

Meg sighed and reluctantly turned her head back, preparing herself for Christine's reaction. "I don't have a date."

Christine blinked a few times, before finally responding. "You need a date for this thing?"

"Oh, see!?" Meg threw her arms up and rose from the sofa. "That is exactly why I didn't want to tell you! Because I knew you would react that way!"

Christine was confused. "What way? All I said—"

"Oh come on, Chris! 'You need a date for this thing?' What else could that mean, other than you think I'm spineless for wanting to have someone with me for perhaps one of the most important fashion shows in the history of _New York Chique_!"

Christine took a deep breath, gathering herself together before answering. "Ok, first off, I don't think you're spineless. Second, I _don't_ think you need to have a date for this show, so if that is the only thing that is preventing you from going, I'm sorry, but I honestly think that is stupid." Meg opened her mouth to protest, but Christine lifted her hand to stop her. "BUT," she continued. "I understand that this is a very big event, not just for you, but for the magazine, and I am sorry that I didn't understand right away how big this thing was…and, I also understand that appearances do mean a lot, and for something like this…it would be nice to have someone with you…so, what can I do to help you with this endeavor?"

Meg looked stunned by everything that Christine had said…especially the part about understanding her worries. "You…you want to help me?"

Christine's eyes grew tender as she looked at her friend. "Meg…you're my best friend, of course I want to help you."

Meg sniffed back a few tears that threatened to fall, and ruin her eyeliner, and quickly engulfed Christine in a huge hug. "Thank you," she sniffled, before giggling. "Sorry, it's the stress," she quickly dabbed at her eyes.

Christine smiled tenderly at her friend, before giving her another hug. "You concentrate on picking an outfit, and while doing that, tell me about the date problem." And from there, everything fell into place. Meg had originally planned on attending this event with Tony, but that was before Tony revealed his true colors and dumped her. She then had her secretary find her a substitute date, and it turned out that Karl, from the art department downstairs, was available and would take her. But just yesterday, Karl called in sick with a bad case of the flu, and all day long, Meg's secretary had been making phone calls, trying to find someone who could accompany Meg to Simon Patrillo's show…but no one was available.

"So that explains the paper wads," Christine mumbled, looking down at the littered floor.

Meg nodded her head, as she tried on yet another dress. "Yeah, I kept scribbling down different names, and throwing them on the floor when I learned that they couldn't do it," she sighed, not happy with the dress she had chosen. "Poor Brian, I even asked him earlier, when he stopped by my office. I'm so desperate; I'm asking my married coworkers!" She threw the dress off and looked ready to collapse in utter defeat. "Oh Chris, it's hopeless, isn't it? I should just…I know you're right, I'm not going to allow this to keep me from going, but…" she looked ready to cry.

Christine bit her lip, knowing that they only had so much time before the big event. "Ok, so we've tried all the guys…both single and married…here at the office…"

Meg sadly nodded her head. "I even asked Todd from editing, but he can't, it's his and his boyfriend's tenth anniversary."

"Hey!" Meg turned to see Christine looking directly at her, her eyes wide and her face all lit up. All she was missing was the light bulb to appear overhead. "What about that guy from the restaurant? You know…what was his name…?"

"Stephen?" Meg asked, her own eyes going wide at Christine's suggestion.

"Yes!" Christine grinned. "What about him? He has a connection to the magazine."

Meg's brow furrowed. "The accounting firm?"

Christine shrugged her shoulders. "Makes perfect sense to me, it is a financial matter, so to speak."

Meg bit her lip, unsure how to respond. "I don't know, Chris…I mean, I don't really know Stephen that well…"

Christine frowned at Meg's sudden lack of enthusiasm. Hadn't she been desperate to find someone? And now that this opportunity lay before them, she seemed reluctant. "But…you didn't really know Karl that well, either."

Meg fidgeted slightly. "W-well…true, but…but Karl understands the fashion business, and Stephen…well…he…" her voice drifted away.

Christine put her hands on her hips, clearly annoyed by Meg's change in behavior. "Oh I see…Stephen's not 'fashionable' enough, is that it?"

Meg's eyes went wide at Christine's words. "What? No, of course not!"

"Oh really?" Christine folded her arms across her chest. "Then what's the problem? He seems like a really nice guy, you both seemed to have a good time when we all had dinner together, plus, he did knock out your sleazy ex-boyfriend, so—"

"Ok! Ok! I get your point!" Meg grumbled, although she was blushing quite brightly. "I…I just…I haven't spoken to him since that dinner, you know? And…gosh, I just…" she bit her lip and stared out the window. "I don't want him to think I'm using him, he is a nice guy, a really nice guy, and he has done a lot for me…"

Christine walked over to where her friend stood and rubbed her shoulder tenderly. "He seems like a good, upstanding guy. I think he'll understand your need, and besides, we don't even know if he can make it, so let's just call him at the very least."

Meg nodded her head, although she was now feeling more nervous than ever before, and she didn't understand why exactly. She walked over to her desk and punched a key on her phone. "Joanne? I want you to get me the phone number of Stephen Dulane at our accounting firm…"

* * *

Stephen looked absolutely miserable.

In one hand, he held his cell phone, while in the other he held his business card, a card that had his cell phone number listed. On the night of their "unofficial dinner date", before saying goodbye, Stephen had given Meg one of his business cards, telling her that she could contact him for anything. It had been a bold move, he knew, but one he felt very confident in making at the time.

But right now…confidence was the last thing he was feeling.

"You need to stop staring at that thing; it won't just ring because you will it to."

Stephen glanced up from the chair he was sitting in, to gaze across the room at the pacing masked figure. Stephen couldn't take it anymore, after several days had passed and Meg still hadn't contacted him, he rushed over to Erik's penthouse, hoping that the mysterious Date Phantom could give him some advice.

"You just have to be patient," Erik advised, although he was the last person who looked patient.

Stephen frowned at this. "But…I did everything you said when we had dinner; I followed your rules, I listened to her, I kept up my end of the conversation, I was polite, I gave her space, I showed confidence—"

"Sometimes it just takes time," Erik interrupted, before pacing over to a window to gaze out at the city below. Stephen noticed that whenever Erik stopped his pacing, he would begin to tap his fingers against something, whether it was his desk, another piece of furniture, or as he noticed right now, the window glass. It seemed that something was certainly on Erik's mind…

"Well…" Stephen mumbled. "How long does it take? I mean, I understand what you're saying, about being patient, and I know it's only been a few days, but…" he bit his lip. "I'm just worried that…that she'll find someone else, someone who is far more interesting and far better looking, and that she'll forget all about me…"

Stephen's words cut to Erik's heart, and he glanced over at the man he was quickly growing a good friendship with, and he felt utterly horrible. _I've been consumed with my own worried thoughts about my upcoming…date…with Miss Davis, that I haven't been a good employee…or friend, to Stephen._

"Stephen," Erik murmured before walking over to the small, stout man. "She's not going to forget you, and we will find—"

The sudden, shrill ring of Stephen's cell phone cut off the rest of Erik's words. Stephen nearly jumped out of his chair, and practically dropped the phone, before finally getting a good grasp on it and focusing on the number that was calling.

Erik noticed Stephen's face go pale, and a sweat break out over his brow, as the hand that held the small phone began to tremble. "Oh God…Oh God…" Stephen could barely breathe. "It's her!"

Erik's own eyes went wide at this revelation. It seemed that Stephen's will was stronger than they both thought.

"W-w-w-what should I do?" Stephen gasped.

"Answer it!" Erik hissed, feeling the sweat begin to pool beneath his mask.

Stephen nodded his head, took a deep, trembling breath, before hitting the answer key, and holding the phone to his ear. "H-h-hello?"

"Stephen?"

MEG!

It was her, it truly was her!

Stephen looked ready to have a heart attack, but Erik slapped him hard on the back to revitalize him.

"Miss Giry!" Stephen nearly choked from the hard slap. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure to his voice. "H-h-how m-may I h-help you?"

Erik bit his lip to hold back his groan. He'd have to teach Stephen that he also needed to sound confident on the phone, as well as in person.

"Hi, Stephen…" Meg sounded hesitant and Stephen bit his lip. Had he done something to make her feel uncomfortable? "I asked my secretary to find your number, and I called your office, but they said you had left early for the day…"

Stephen held back his gasp. She had tried to reach him at work? She had been thinking about him?

"Anyway, I remembered the business card you had given me, and found it in my purse, and I'm so glad I was able to get a hold of you…"

She was glad that she was able to get a hold of him! She hadn't forgotten him after all!

"And…oh gosh, I don't really know how to say this, but…ok, I'll just come out with it," Meg sounded very determined, and Stephen felt as if he were standing on a cliff's edge. "Simon Patrillo has done a lot of work for _New York Chique_, and he is having a fashion show this evening. I am going to the show, but…" Meg paused, as if she were thinking about her next words. "What I am trying to say is…" she paused again, and Stephen held his breath as the pause seemed to go on into eternity. Even Erik, who was sitting nearby and leaning in to hear the call seemed to be waiting breathlessly for what she would say next.

"Stephen, would you do me the honor of being my date this evening?"

Stephen nearly dropped the phone, and most likely would have, if Erik had not been gripping his wrist in order to keep him from doing just that.

Stephen glanced up at Erik, his mouth going dry, his eyes wide, his entire face perspiring with nervous tension. He was utterly speechless!

"Stephen?" Meg sounded extremely nervous now.

Erik slapped Stephen on the back to get him out of his speechless stupor. "Yes!" Stephen nearly barked into the phone, and then quickly tried to cover up his sudden answer with a loud cough.

There was a long pause, before Meg finally spoke again. "You'll go with me?" there was something in her tone, something that sounded both amazed…and pleased.

"Y-yes," Stephen took a deep breath and concentrated on sounding confident. "Yes, it would be an honor to escort you to Mr. Patrillo's fashion show."

There was another pause, before a sigh of what sounded like relief, filled Stephen's ear. "Great," Meg said, sounding very genuine in her response. "I'll have a limo come by and pick you up at 6. There will be dinner before the show, and a cocktail party afterwards."

Dinner. Cocktail party. Fashion show! Stephen swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he realized not only would he be out with Meg Giry for practically the entire evening, but that he would be right out of his element!

"Thank you so much, Stephen," Meg murmured into the phone, sounding relieved and pleased. She murmured her goodbye before hanging up, and none too soon, for Stephen's grip loosened, and the phone fell to the floor with a loud thump.

"She…she…she asked me out…" Stephen gasped, rather breathlessly. "She asked me to be her date…to…to a fashion show…"

Erik couldn't help but smile at the whole situation. "That she did…that she did. Congratulations, Stephen!"

But Stephen didn't feel overjoyed, like he was deep in his heart. "N-n-no, you don't understand; it's a fashion show…and dinner, and cocktails! I…I…I've never…how…where…w-w-what…?"

Erik gripped Stephen's shoulders with both hands, and forced the accountant to look directly at him. "Meg said the limo would be coming by your place at 6. That gives us just under two hours to get ready."

"T-t-two hours?" Stephen gulped.

But Erik did not loosen his grip, and spoke quite carefully, and quite clearly. "You will be dressed appropriately, you will be fully prepared for the evening, and you are going to ROCK this date, do you understand?"

Stephen's eyes went wide at Erik's words. In the brief time that he knew him, Stephen never expected Erik to use the word "rock" before, especially when describing a date. But he liked it, and he slowly felt his confidence building back up again. "Rock this date…" Stephen murmured to himself. "Yes…yes, I am going to ROCK this date!"

Erik grinned and patted his new friend on the back. "Let's hurry back to your place and get you ready for the lovely Miss Giry…"


	11. The Fashion Show

**Summary: **Stephen and Meg's date at Simon Patrillo's fashion show...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_The Fashion Show_**

"Relax…just relax, and enjoy yourself…" Stephen kept repeating over and over as the long, white limo, slowed down to a curb outside a very loud, and very bright building. He had been disappointed when the limousine had arrived, and Meg was not inside it. The driver then informed him that Miss Giry would be meeting him at the pavilion where the fashion show would be held. It was just as well, Stephen thought to himself, since now he would have a little extra time to prepare himself.

But that time was over, he was now there, and although he couldn't see her, he knew that she was there as well, standing by, perhaps watching the limo pull up and waiting breathlessly…well, probably not breathlessly, but at least waiting for him. _And most likely hoping that I don't embarrass her in front of everyone._

"Sir?"

Stephen looked up and realized that the driver was holding the door open for him. He gasped as he saw dozens of photographers, all standing around the limo, each shouting different words at him, and hundreds of flashbulbs going off at once, blinding him as he slowly climbed out of the car.

Oh boy, what had he gotten himself into?

Stephen stood for a moment as the photographers continued to take his picture, each straining to see if anyone else would be climbing out of the limo after him, but much to their disappointment, the door shut and the driver began to pull the car away. The photographers lost all interest then, not that Stephen was surprised; after all, he was nothing in their eyes. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, then remembered what Erik said, and brought them back out, to quickly smooth the suit he was wearing, the suit that Erik insisted he wear for the evening. Did he look all right for such an occasion? Would Meg approve? Where was she, anyway?

_She's probably found someone better to escort her, and just couldn't get a hold of me,_ Stephen glumly thought. He couldn't blame her, after all, if you were stuck with someone like him, wouldn't you do everything in your power to find a replacement?

"Stephen?"

Stephen froze at the sound of her angelic voice, and he swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, as he slowly lifted his eyes to see the petite beauty that he was head over heels for, emerge like Aphrodite from the sea of photographers.

The word gorgeous didn't do her justice. She was exquisite. Her reddish-gold hair was done up completely, a few wisps falling about her neck and shoulders, but the whole if it was piled up and adorned with pearls, and crowning her lovely mane was a jeweled comb that looked like a white dove, with soft feathers extended out.

Her dress was also breathtaking. She wore a long, scarlet silk dress, which hung by two thin straps at her shoulders, all the way down to her toes, with splashes of gold and glitter spread about on the delicate fabric. Stephen swallowed as he noticed that there was slit in the dress, that started at the hem and went all the way up to her lower thigh. She had red high heels that lifted her height to his eye level, and she also wore a sheer scarlet wrap, that hung loosely around her arms. As for her face, Meg had decided to go with the softer earth tones, her eyes highlighted by a striking gold eye shadow, and her lips enhanced by a brilliant crimson color.

Stephen was utterly speechless.

* * *

Meg had been wringing her hands nervously ever since she arrived. She knew she was early, but she had her reasons. There were plenty of photographers there already, but she knew there would be much more as the night wore on, and to be honest, she didn't want to put Stephen through all that chaos.

_Is that what you really believe? Or was it simply because you didn't want those photographers to catch you on his arm?_

Meg frowned at the inner voice. She didn't like it one bit. Stephen Dulane may not be what society would call handsome, or fashionable, but he was a really nice guy, and had been such a gentleman to her when she had invited him to dinner earlier in the week. _I need more gentlemen in my life, more good men like Stephen, than handsome rogues like Tony._ There was no denying that Tony looked the part for such red carpet events; a guy like him would soak in all the photos taken, and Meg would certainly look good on his arm. But Tony, like many other handsome men before him, proved to be yet another undependable, non-committal, scumbag. And Meg was tired of getting her heart broken by such "handsome princes". Maybe she needed to kiss a few frogs to find her prince?

Meg's breath caught as she slowly watched Stephen's limo pull up. The limo had the monogram for _New York Chique_ stenciled on its doors, and the photographers immediately began to crowd around it, their flashbulbs going off like lightning in a thunderstorm. Meg tried to peer past the photographers and their flashing cameras, but she couldn't see through them. She moved closer, hoping to catch sight of Stephen, hoping to help steer him away from the obnoxious photographers, but the second her eyes caught sight of him, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Stephen Dulane, the geeky accountant, didn't look so geeky after all. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit, with a black dress shirt and a light gray necktie. The cut of the suit made Stephen look slimmer, and elongated his height, giving him a slightly taller look as well. Meg could not deny it…she was impressed! She had obviously misjudged Stephen; the man definitely had some sort of expertise in fashion.

"Stephen?"

Meg couldn't help but grin as she caught his eyes, pride shining forth at the obvious efforts he had gone to in order to make her feel proud to have him as her date. If anything, it was extremely humbling for Meg; he was doing this so that she wouldn't feel embarrassed, but she did feel embarrassed…embarrassed that she had doubted him.

"You look great!" Meg grinned, coming forward and eagerly wrapping her arm around his.

Stephen was still staring down at her, his face pale, his eyes wide. "T-t-thank you…" he stuttered, before quickly clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up. He remembered the careful instructions Erik had given him, and replied, in a clear voice, "And you look beautiful."

Meg felt her cheeks flood with color by his simple compliment. She had been told in the past that she looked lovely by other dates, but…this time, it just felt so much more genuine. "Thank you," she whispered, that nervous feeling returning once more. Although this time, the nervousness was for completely different reasons. "Well!" she said, forcing her nervousness to go away. "Shall we?"

Stephen swallowed the lump in his throat and closed his eyes very briefly. _Confidence, confidence is key!_ "Lead the way, mademoiselle."

Meg found herself blushing again, but she couldn't hide her smile. In fact, she was smiling up at him the whole time they walked down the length of the red carpet, completely unaware of the photographers around them.

* * *

"_Do you really think this is a good color?"_

_Erik didn't once look at Stephen, he just kept walking around him, looking pensive, his fingers tapping his chin has he observed Stephen in the recommended suit. _

_Stephen fidgeted slightly. "I just…gray seems awfully…dreary, don't you think? I mean, to a fashion show—"_

"_This is charcoal gray," Erik interrupted. "And dark colors look good on you."_

_Stephen blushed slightly. He had never really thought about what colors looked "good" on him before. _

"_I think the black shirt would be better than the white," Erik murmured, before moving behind Stephen to retrieve a men's black dress shirt, which was hanging on a doorknob. "Yes…" Erik continued to murmur, holding several neck ties that were draped over his wrist to the shirt. "Yes, the black shirt with the gray tie."_

_Stephen frowned slightly. "Another gray color?"_

"_It's light gray," Erik explained. "And it will look good with the shirt and the suit, trust me."_

_Stephen nodded his head, deciding to not argue with "the expert". So far, all of Erik's advice seemed to be working for him, and Stephen had no sense whatsoever when it came to men's fashion; he would leave it all in Erik's hands._

"_I'm just still amazed that the friend you mentioned, the one who works in the men's clothing store, was able to get this suit over here so quickly!"_

_Erik took the suit jacket that Stephen had shrugged out of, and handed him the black shirt to change into. "Edward is another former client of mine; he understands how nerve wracking it is for most men when it comes to dressing for a date," he found himself chuckling at this. So many people would never have thought about how nerve wracking it could be for men, when it came to dressing up for a date. Everyone always assumed it was just a woman's worry. "Edward has been very kind in helping me suit up other clients. I just had to call him, give him your address, and the measurements you gave me—and thank you, by the way, for not lying," Erik added, as he handed Stephen the light gray tie. So many former clients of his had lied about their size, and thus many of the suits Edward had sent, never fit. "Just understand that this suit is on loan. Do everything in your power to keep it spotless, and make sure that you, that's right, _you_, return it to the address that I have given you, by eight, tomorrow morning."_

_Stephen nodded his head, although he was already feeling some heavy pressure. He could be such a klutz; it was not unusual for him to drop food on himself. How was he going to keep this suit spotless? He was nervous enough as it was!_

_Erik took a step back to look at Stephen one more time, as the accountant slipped on the suit coat once more, and buttoned it up. "W-w-well?" _

_A smile began to spread across Erik's masked face. "Perfect," he grinned._

_Stephen paled for a moment, his eyes wide with disbelief. "R-r-really?"_

_Erik nodded his head. "You look great, and you will certainly impress her," he grinned, but then his smile was quickly replaced with a serious look. "Now…let's go over tonight."_

_Stephen's relaxed expression quickly changed back to one of nervousness. Looking the part was only half the battle; he had to show Meg that he truly wanted to be the man she was proud to call her boyfriend…_

* * *

"Ah! Meg!"

Meg looked up and grinned as she heard her name being called. "Simon!" she cried, waving her hand to the tall, lanky Italian that was quickly approaching. "That's Simon Patrillo," Meg whispered into Stephen's ear. "He is both our host, and guest of honor tonight."

Stephen nodded his head, as Simon quickly approached, holding Meg's shoulders in his long, bony fingers, and leaning forward to give her a kiss on both cheeks. Meg did the same, before leaning back and smiling up at him.

"Oh thank God you are here, darling," Simon groaned, rolling his eyes. "I have had Jason Cartwright in my ear since the party started, blabbing on and on about Paris Fashion Week," he let out a loud groan of disdain. "He's seriously considering about making a whole line based on the 1980's 'glam rock' scene! Couldn't you just die!?"

Meg bit her lip to hold back her giggle. Simon was certainly an eccentric. "Simon, I would like you to meet Stephen Dulane," Meg introduced, smiling up at Stephen.

_"Now, when you meet any of Miss Giry's friends, make sure you give them that good, firm handshake, and also make sure that you look interested in whatever they are talking about. I don't care if they're holding a conversation on bathroom floor tiles, look interested and pay attention! Because no doubt, they're going to test you. They're going to realize that you're not 'one of them', and try to intimidate you with some strange question in regards to fashion; don't let them get to you! Be calm, be polite, and most importantly, put all the attention on the star attraction: Simon Patrillo."_

"Simon," Stephen smiled, calling on all his confidence. "It's a pleasure to meet you, and an honor too."

Simon looked a little surprised by these words, but smiled all the same as he shook Stephen's hand. "Why thank you," he smiled, glancing at Meg out of the corner of his eye, and seeing her smiling proudly up at Stephen. "And are you in the fashion business?"

Meg paled just a little and opened her mouth to speak, but Stephen confidently answered for himself. "Only from the financial side of things," he joked softly. "But I have always been in awe of fashion; it certainly is an art form that does not get the rightful credit or critique that it deserves."

Simon was grinning, and folded his arms across his chest. "Truly? Would you be so kind as to give me some examples?"

"_While you were changing clothes, I jumped on your computer and did a quick web search on Simon Patrillo. The man has an outrageous fashion sense, and loves to use wild, outlandish colors, and many of his gown designs copy those of ancient Rome and Greece. According to the web search, his last big show received little praise, due to his designs not being considered 'daring' enough, by high fashion standards. While his gowns revealed much in the way of leg and arms, there was no plunging neckline, no exposure of the torso, and the fabric was considered 'frumpy' looking. This is no doubt a sore spot for him, as that very fashion show took place in Paris, during last year's Paris Fashion Week, so tread carefully, if this issue or anything like it, arises."_

"Well," Stephen began. "It seems that high fashion is becoming a bit of a cliché. For so long, it seems that the attitude of 'less is more' has ruled the runways. So when a person comes forth with a vision to bring some 'old world regalness' back to design, it frightens those critics who are so used to the way that things have been."

Simon's eyes widened at Stephen's words. "My thoughts exactly!" he exclaimed. "Once upon a time 'that' was the thing, but it's boring now! We need something new, and as funny as it sounds, 'old' is the new 'new'!" Simon's eyes were sparkling as he grinned at Stephen, before glancing back to Meg…who was staring up at Stephen, her mouth hanging open from the shock of the entire conversation. "Meg, darling, where did you find him?"

Meg shook her head, realizing that she was being spoken to. "I…w-what?" she shook her head again and tried to focus her attention on Simon.

Simon just grinned. "You both have just become my special guests tonight! I want you both sitting up in the front, and Stephen—" Simon grinned, before turning and walking to greet more people. "I want to hear all _your_ thoughts when the show is done!" he blew Meg a kiss, before turning on his heel and leaving them as quickly as he had approached them earlier.

"_Being confident, looking relaxed, sounding interested in the topics of the evening, and coming across as if you not only know what you're talking about…but that you also care, will do wonders for your date. Trust me, you'll be one step away from sweeping Miss Giry right off her feet."_

"How…I…" Meg was stuttering.

Stephen felt his cheeks flush with color, but he also wore a proud smile on his face. He couldn't help it! Normally, he would be a nervous wreak, and he didn't really know what he was talking about…but somehow, just after a few words, it all seemed to come out naturally, and Stephen really was showing some interest in the fashion show now.

Meg was still amazed, and finally was able to jolt herself back to reality. "I never realized…" she murmured in awe. "I didn't know you had such a keen eye for fashion."

Stephen blushed at her words and ended up giving her a rather bashful smile. "Keen eye? I don't know about that—"

"No, it's true!" Meg interrupted. "You have honestly made Simon's night! Last time I saw him, he was in such a foul mood, still grumbling about those bad reviews, but here you come…someone he doesn't know, someone who I _thought_ was outside the fashion industry," she added with a slight grin. "And…you just blew him away! He needed to hear what you said more than anything else, and it didn't even occur to me until just now!"

Stephen was grinning widely. He was very happy that he had been able to help both Meg and her friend. "Simon seems like a very nice guy," Stephen sincerely mentioned. "Some guys just need that boost of confidence, though, especially when they are down."

Meg smiled up at him, and felt a warm feeling wash over her at his words. "Come on," she grinned, tightening her arm around his and pulling him just slightly. "Dinner is about to start."

* * *

The night was going surprisingly well! Dinner had been relaxing, much to Stephen's surprise. He was nervous at first, about Meg watching him eat (he knew he didn't have the best figure in the world) but, thankfully as Erik had observed, Stephen didn't have horrible table manners. He never spoke while chewing, he never gorged his face, he kept his elbows off the table, he didn't play with his food, he knew the proper methods of how to use a knife and fork…it was just that when he sat down at the table, he momentarily panicked when he noticed multiple forks!

Erik hadn't told him anything about this! Which one did he use? Stephen's face burned brightly when he noticed Meg watching him out of the corner of her eye, as he looked at the multiple dinner utensils with confusion. "This is for the salad," Meg whispered, pointing with her pinkie finger at the outer most fork, so as not to direct any attention to Stephen from the others at their table. "Just work from the outside, in, with every course," she informed, with a tender smile. Stephen felt his insides melt at that smile, and was extremely grateful for her understanding.

Other than that, dinner went quite smoothly. There was polite conversation at the table, and Stephen was introduced to few more faces in the fashion business. They directed most of their questions at Meg, and Stephen did have a momentary fear that he would have nothing to offer the conversation, but Meg would have none of that.

"Stephen holds Simon's views on the new wave of fashion. Older styles are definitely the new 'in'," she grinned.

"Really?" one of the other people at the table asked. It wasn't a question filled with challenge or contempt, but genuine interest. Stephen cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with his napkin, before proceeding to give his opinion on the matter, as he had done with Simon. Much to his surprise, the others at the table seemed to be quite impressed.

After dinner, the fashion show was about to take place. Stephen and Meg were greeted by a large security guard-type, who escorted them to "Simon's prized seats", which everyone took immediate notice at, and began whispering amongst themselves as Meg and Stephen took their coveted front row seats. The show began, and Stephen's eyes went wide as the models strutted out onto the runway, wearing colorful, flowing gowns, that did indeed resemble the robes of ancient Greece and Rome, just as Erik had informed him. There were a few other pieces in Simon's collection, but it was obvious that this was his baby. Stephen had never once given much thought to the fashion business…but after tonight, he knew he would never look at it the same way again, and he would certainly think twice before judging it.

The show ended, and the audience clapped wildly as Simon made his curtain call with all the models on the runway. As soon as the lights came back on, everyone began rising from their seats, eager to get to the cocktail party that was immediately following the show.

"That was incredible!" Stephen exclaimed, most earnestly.

Meg's grin was so bright, that the sun, itself, would be shamed by it. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it," she giggled. In the past, when Meg had gone to fashion shows, her dates (many of whom were male models) looked like they would rather be at home, watching the paint dry on the wall. Their boredom was extremely embarrassing for her, and they would normally spend much of the evening either standing by her side, not participating in the conversation, just being a dead weight on her arm and looking all around the room…or at the bar, downing one drink after another.

No, Stephen was quite different, in many ways, but all of which Meg found that she liked more and more.

"So?" both Meg and Stephen jumped as Simon came up from behind them, looking hopeful and excited. "So, what did you think?"

Meg smiled and held her hands out to the designer. "I love it, and I want it for my spring mega issue of _New York Chique_," she stated with pride.

Simon blushed and then eagerly turned to Stephen. "What did you think, Stephano?"

Stephen was thrown at first by his new "pet name", but found himself smiling at it, knowing that it was Simon's way of showing friendliness and acceptance. "Honestly? It took my breath away, I have never seen anything like that; the colors, the flow of the fabrics, I think if a woman walked into a room, wearing such a gown, everyone would stare at her, in utter fascination…" Stephen's eyes had drifted towards Meg's then, his voice growing softer and softer as he spoke. "And…a man's heart…would simply stop beating…in complete awe at her beauty…"

Meg didn't realize it until Stephen had finished his sentence that she had been holding her breath. Her heart was beating rapidly, and she felt a shiver go down her spine, one that spread warmth throughout her body.

Simon glanced between the two of them, noticing how they were looking at each other, and a large grin began to spread across his face. "I am so glad you enjoyed," he grinned, before placing his arms around them and leading them in the direction of the cocktail party. "You both are always invited to any party, show, gala, anything—that I am throwing in the future. And if I can, I will make sure you get the tickets for anything that I will be at," he stated with a wink.

They had reached the room where the cocktail party was being held, and everyone turned and began clapping again as Simon entered. Simon did a little bow and blew a few kisses to a few cameras that were flashing like crazy. Stephen, not completely comfortable with the cameras, told Simon and Meg that he would get them drinks, and quickly made a dash to the bar, before the cameras could take one more photo.

It was just as well, since Simon was dying to talk to Meg alone. "I love him!" he hissed into her ear. "Stephano is such a breath of fresh air after those other imbeciles you've brought in the past."

Meg felt her face flood with color at Simon's words, but a voice inside her head was completely agreeing with the fashion designer.

"Granted, he's not what I would call 'usual' for the fashion world, but such a gentleman!" Simon continued. "Complimentary, sincere, and so attentive to you," he added.

Meg's face darkened even more. "M-m-me?" she nearly chirped. "W-what do you mean?"

Simon rolled his eyes. "Oh come now, darling, don't play the innocent," he grinned. "Stephano has been by your side all evening, he is obviously doing his best to make sure you are comfortable, whether that's by getting you a drink," he pointed to Stephen at the bar, "or by participating in the conversation."

Meg had to give it to Simon; he did have a point.

"Who was that pet gorilla of yours that I last saw you with?"

Meg blushed and began to fidget. "Tony," she murmured without any pride.

Simon's lip curled in a snarl of disgust. "Ah yes, Antoine," he grumbled. "If I remember correctly, the fool had a few too many, and then proceeded to do some sort of strip tease, while drunkenly announcing he was a better model than all the others in the room, and thus urinated on one of the manikins that was wearing one of my creations."

Meg remembered that night too; it was during the coveted Paris Fashion Week, and sadly, some of the fashion press which had already given Simon's work negative remarks, mentioned how "fitting" it was that someone didn't hold back their true feelings, and treated the creation as the piece of crap that it truly was. After that fiasco, it was amazing that Simon was willing to invite her to any of his shows.

"Well, I'm just glad that he is gone, and that you have found someone who is truly worthy of your arm," Simon grinned, just as Stephen was approaching them with their drinks. "Ah! Thank you, Stephano, but I am afraid I must mingle with others," he groaned with a roll of his eyes. "Party etiquette can be such a nuisance. Anyway, be sure to see me before you leave for the evening!" he instructed, as he took his drink and began to leave their side. "It was such a pleasure, Stephano, truly! Chow!"

"C-c-chow," Stephen murmured, a bashful smile spreading across his face. He couldn't believe how well he had done with making a good impression on Meg's friends! Of course, Stephen remembered exactly what Erik said on such matters:

_"It's not about you, always keep that in mind. It's about her. You go out of your way to make a good impression on her friends; they are going to have an even better impression of her. You will have succeeded in making her feel like the queen that she already is."_

"Oh no…"

Stephen was jolted from his thoughts by Meg's groan of disdain. "W-w-what is it?"

"Jason Cartwright, and one of his little minions," Meg muttered, as two men slowly began to approach them. "Jason is also a fashion designer, one who truly embraces all the negative understandings of the word 'diva'. He has been a rival of Simon's for years, and is highly regarded by many fashion critics…save for a few."

"_New York Chique_?" Stephen whispered.

"Exactly," Meg grumbled. "I featured Jason's fall collection two years ago, and I vowed after that strenuous photo shoot, to never have him back."

"Meg!" Jason greeted, his arms wide open, a large smile spread across his face. "Oh Meg, Meg, Meg, it's been so long!"

Meg plastered a smile on her face, and did her best to not show her reluctance, as she stood on tip toe to kiss the man's cheeks. "It's nice to see you again, Jason."

Jason was a tall man, very thin, who looked like a skeleton dressed in his all black suit. He also had a bald head; one that was so shiny, a person could swear they would see their reflection in it if he tipped his head to you. Stephen's first thoughts were Lex Luther from "Superman"; the guy looked like he could be a comic book villain.

"Oh Meg, you look stunning," Jason cooed, admiring her dress. "Valentino? Gucci?"

"Actually, it's one of Simon's designs," Meg informed, smoothing her hands across the fabric. "I thought it appropriate for—"

"Oh, yes, of course, how silly of me, your magazine is one of the few that does admire Simon's work," Jason interrupted, his smile never once faltering, although it didn't take a psychologist to realize he wasn't being genuine. "And that's so quaint of you, coming to his show in his design," he actually patted Meg's head, as if she were a dog! Stephen felt himself bristle…

"Oh! How rude of me," Jason drawled. "This is Luc, my business associate," Jason gestured to the handsome, thin, black man by his side. "Luc is from Paris, Meg, and has been dying to meet you."

Luc smiled and took Meg's hand in his own, bowing dramatically, before kissing it. Stephen's bristling didn't lessen. "Mademoiselle, it is such a pleasure to meet the daughter of the famous Antoinette Giry."

Meg smiled politely, although she honestly didn't trust any friend of Jason's, no matter how charming they appeared. "Thank you," she muttered, before removing her hand from Luc's and turning to gesture towards Stephen. "And this is—"

"Meg, it has been too long since I was last featured in your charming magazine," Jason interrupted again. "I have a new spring collection that would be perfect for it! Oh, your readers would just die! I insist that you feature it in _New York Chique's_ spring fashion mega issue."

Meg was starting to bristle now. No one, not even her own mother who started the magazine, told her what to do. "I'm sorry, Jason, but I've already asked Simon to feature his collection for that issue." She couldn't help but look amused at Jason's pale face of absolute astonishment. It was the first time since talking to him that she had been able to finish a sentence! "And I think—"

"SIMON'S COLLECTION!?" Jason practically shouted, his eyes still wide with shock and disbelief. Meg's face immediately flooded with color when other people began to turn and look at them. Jason noticed this too, and did not wish to cause a scene…yet. "Meg, you cannot be serious!" he hissed. "Simon is death in the fashion industry!"

Meg squared her shoulders, determined to stand her ground. "Simon received some harsh, and unjust reviews in Paris, but that doesn't mean he is not a genius, and I happen to believe that his collection is—"

"Oh Meg, so naïve!" Jason interrupted again. "Just because you came to his show tonight, doesn't mean you _have_ to give him courtesy, and allow him to be the feature in your magazine!"

Meg was really angry now. How dare he call her naïve! Her magazine was the fastest selling, and most successful women's lifestyle magazine, in all of New York! "I chose to feature Simon's collection because I like it, and I think my readers will—"

Both Jason and Luc interrupted her, yet again, with their wild laughter at her words. Meg bit her lip to keep her emotions in check; she was not going to allow their rudeness to bring her to tears, it would only fuel them more. But she was extremely frustrated with not being heard, or allowed to speak, or—

"Miss Giry is editor-in-chief of _New York Chique_, and she has a brilliant eye for fashion, and if she wishes to feature something, then who are you to question it?"

The two men stopped laughing and stared at Stephen as if he were a bug they had found in their water glass. Meg, however, felt her chest swell with pride as she heard him stand up for her. "And I happen to agree with her," Stephen stated, taking a bold step forward. "Simon Patrillo's collection is brilliant, and if you had listened to her, half as much as you listened to yourself, you would have heard her say that."

Luc looked absolutely stunned, but Jason was already fuming at being questioned…as well as called out on his rudeness. "And _who_ are _you_?"

Stephen put on a smile, one that was obviously fake. "Stephen Dulane," he extended his hand towards the so-called fashion designer. "Miss Giry's date."

Jason didn't even bother to shake Stephen's hand; he simply began laughing again at the mention of Stephen being her date. "Oh my, my, my," Jason turned his attention back to Meg. "Were you that desperate to find someone to be your chaperone, that you took the first guy off the street?"

Meg's brow furrowed with outrage at Jason's comment, and she opened her mouth to tell him what she really thought of him, but Stephen stepped forward, determined to defend himself, and put Mr. Jason Cartwright in his proper place. "I happen to be one of Miss Giry's accountants," he informed, pausing to allow Jason an opportunity to laugh, as he predictably did. "And while I may not be an expert in the fashion business, I do know this much…" he leaned in and whispered, "when you say that your collection will cause people to just 'die'…wouldn't that be going against the point of selling it?"

Jason's eyes widened with disbelief. Was this lard of a man making fun of him!?

"I mean, if you think about it, it makes perfect sense as to why Miss Giry would insist on _not_ featuring your collection; she needs her readers to be alive so that they can continue to subscribe to her magazine, not to mention she is a kind-hearted person and would hate to be involved in any way with the death of millions of innocent readers."

Meg bit her lip, but it was too late, a snort of laughter had already escaped. Jason shot her a cold stare, and then fixed Stephen with one, as if hoping it would freeze Stephen right where he stood.

But Stephen continued.

"I can see the headlines now: 'Millions die from mass shock caused by Skeletor's fashion collection, featured in popular New York magazine'."

Meg didn't hide her laughter, she let it out now, and Luc even let a few chuckles slip, before Jason shot him a death glare.

"You think you're funny, don't you? You think you're so smart—"

"I wonder what would do it, don't you?" Stephen interrupted, turning to Meg with a curious expression on his face. "Do you think it will be the fabric or the colors that will kill them? Or the fact that the models are wearing dental floss, as from what I understand, is what your line of clothes basically is."

Jason was fuming. "Listen, you stupid, fat—"

"Oh! Maybe it's the prices? Imagine, $200,000 for a piece of string! I mean, just the thought itself is making it hard for me to breathe…"

"Stop it!" Jason nearly shouted, his face burning brightly as he realized others were now watching…and chuckling to what Stephen was saying. "Who do you think you are? You're nothing, you—"

"Who am I?" Stephen interrupted, his eyes now catching Jason's and causing the bald-headed fashion designer to gulp. "I'm Miss Giry's date, which means I'm already ten times luckier than you," he growled. Meg's smile vanished, only to be replaced by a deep blush at his valiant words. "And as I said before, I'm one of her accountants, who happens to recall that the last issue of _New York Chique_ that featured anything by you, was one if its lowest selling issues."

Jason gasped at this, and looked ready to faint. Luc even had to grip the bald man by his shoulder to keep him from falling over.

"I also happen to know that Miss Giry is much beloved, not only by people in this city, but all around the world. And if I wrote a comment for the editorials section in her magazine, telling them all about how Miss Giry was so insulted by noted designer Jason Cartwright, well…I think it's safe to say that your so-called spring collection will be safely tucked away on the racks, while Mr. Patrillo's sells like wild-fire."

That did it. One of Jason's eyes was twitching from anger, shock, and horror, and Luc hurriedly steered the designer away, before he could say anything to further embarrass himself (or jeopardize his career), or make a spectacle of himself by fainting in front of all these cameras.

As soon as the bald designer left the room, several people standing around Meg and Stephen began to applaud and approach the two of them, eager to shake Stephen's hand and tell him how they had been longing to do what he did for years. People spoke to Meg too, complimenting her on both her dress…and her date for the evening, as well as telling her they would surely stand by her and _New York Chique_, and boycott anything that carried Jason Cartwright's name.

Meg smiled and thanked them for their support, but her attention was completely focused upon Stephen.

It seemed she truly had found a winner.

* * *

"_This is probably the most important part. I know that you love her, and I understand that if everything has been going right, you may feel that the time is right to lean in and kiss her…"_

"_Kiss her!?" Stephen gulped. Erik had been coaching him all evening as he was preparing for his date, glancing nervously every now and then out of his apartment window for the limo to pull up. "I…I…" he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I…d-d-do you think s-she'll expect me to k-kiss her?"_

_Erik sighed and ran his hands through his hair. It was the very question he had been asking himself for the past few days as he was mentally preparing himself for his upcoming date with Christine. Lord knew he wanted to kiss her; he was extremely tempted to that night they stood at the doorway of her apartment building. But no matter what, he knew that he had to stick with his principles, they were the only guarantee that he had._

"_It seems to me that some women expect a kiss, not necessarily that they're comfortable or ready for it, but that it's supposed to happen, therefore they expect a guy to act out and kiss them. Some women think it's an absolute taboo to even consider kissing on the first date."_

"_T-t-taboo…" Stephen murmured, fear still gripping him at the thought of kissing Meg. Oh he wanted to kiss her, very, very badly, but it had been so long since he had last kissed a woman, and he was so afraid that he would be an absolute klutz, that his lips would miss hers and end up kissing her chin, or nose, or that they would bump heads…and he didn't want to stare at her with open eyes if they kissed, she would think he was a complete psychopath! Oh God…what about tongues? No, no, if they kissed it would only be a closed lip kiss, right? But…what if the kiss deepened? What if, by some miracle, she enjoyed their evening together and moved to deepen the kiss? What if he opened his mouth to allow her to deepen it, and his breath smelled horrible? Or she thought his tongue was slimy and disgusting? Or he just botched the whole thing up and she would never want to see him again!?_

"_Stephen!"_

_Stephen snapped his head up and stared at Erik. "S-s-sorry," he muttered, utterly embarrassed that he had been lost in his own thoughts. "I'm just…extremely nervous…"_

"_Confidence," Erik reminded him. "You're going to be fine, and what I was saying," he began to repeat again. "Was that, when you're saying goodnight, politely offer her your arm, escort her to her doorway, tell her how much you've enjoyed the evening…and if there is a moment that feels that she's waiting for something…simply take her hand in yours, curl your fingers gently around hers, bow to her…and brush your lips just ever so lightly across her skin. Linger…but don't linger for too long."_

"_Linger…b-b-but not for too long," Stephen repeated, swallowing nervously again._

"_That's right," Erik nodded. "Then rub your thumb, just lightly, over the area that you kissed, smile up at her, straighten yourself up, and carefully walk away from her backwards, your eyes never leaving hers."_

"_Right, right, ok," Stephen nodded to everything Erik suggested, now realizing he had a new worry to think about: not falling over!_

"_And of course, you make sure she gets inside safely, before you even think about leaving," Erik instructed, straightening Stephen's tie one last time, just as the limo pulled up in front the apartment. "Alright!" Erik grinned, patting Stephen on the shoulder. "Break a leg!"_

_Stephen gave a weak smile to his masked friend before turning and nervously heading towards the long white limousine. "That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered._

* * *

"I can't remember the last time I had such fun at a fashion show!" Meg gushed, as she and Stephen sat together in the white limo that had brought him earlier.

Stephen smiled, glad that Meg had had a good time, and that he hadn't been an embarrassment for her. Hopefully she would be willing to go on another date with him.

Another date. He had to gather his courage and ask her right now!

"Miss Giry…"

Meg giggled. "Oh Stephen, this isn't the boardroom and we're not in meeting; call me Meg," she grinned.

Stephen smiled, taking that familiarity that she was offering as a good sign. "I…I just…I wanted to thank you for inviting me to come with you," he murmured.

"Oh Stephen, it's I that should be thanking you! Like I said, I can't remember seeing Simon happier, and the way you handled Jason!" she burst out laughing. "Oh I've been dying to yell at him for years! But I never could because I didn't want to jeopardize the magazine's reputation."

Stephen smiled, his cheeks flushing brightly at her compliment. "I can't stand rudeness, and no one should ever be rude to you," he softly stated, his voice quite sincere.

Meg blushed and smiled at his sweet comment. They were nearing her apartment and she knew that they would have to say goodbye soon. She couldn't believe how much of a good time she had had with Stephen Dulane. The man clearly was a pleasant surprise, a breath of fresh air from her other boyfriends; she didn't want to wait until another fashion show came to New York to see him again…

"Thanksgiving is next week…" Meg began.

Stephen was surprised by her change in subject…not that he really had a subject. "Yes," he replied. "Are you traveling anywhere for the holiday?"

Meg shook her head. "I normally just spend it by myself, watching the parade out of my apartment window, eating catered turkey…" she really hoped he would pick up on her hints.

"Oh," Stephen murmured. He had some family in New Jersey that invited him for the holidays, but it always felt more like they were doing it for charity's sake, not because they really wanted him there. After all, he was the only one who didn't have a family of his own…

Meg began to feel silly for even bringing the suggestion up. "Well, I hope that you have a nice holiday with your family—"

"Would you like to have Thanksgiving with me?"

Meg's eyes went wide, as did Stephen's, when he realized he had said the words. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! That could have come out so much better—_

"I'd love to."

Stephen looked at her with surprise, and felt his heart do a somersault at her response. "G-great," he stuttered, but a happy smile was already spreading across his face. "Um…I'll call you, early next week, and give you the details then."

Meg smiled and felt herself blushing. She was eagerly looking forward to their holiday date.

The limo stopped just outside her apartment building, and she giggled as Stephen took Erik's advice, and leapt out his door, before running around and beating the driver to open Meg's. She smiled up at him, thanked him, and took his offered arm. Stephen took several deep breaths as he escorted her to the door, calling upon all the confidence he had in order to not faint dead away from his nerves.

"Thank you again, Miss Giry, for tonight."

Meg blushed, but smiled at his politeness. "And thank you, Mr. Dulane, for making the evening truly wonderful."

There was the pause—just as Erik had said!—and Stephen swallowed the lump in his throat as he noticed that Meg was looking at him, probably wondering if he were going to kiss her…

Stephen bowed then, taking Meg's hand in his, and holding it near his lips. He hovered for a moment, and realized then that she had stopped breathing. Without another moment's hesitation, he lightly brushed his lips across her hand, and heard her intake of breath in that simple gesture. He already knew that her skin was softer than silk…but tonight, as he tasted it for the first time, Stephen didn't think anything could be more heavenly.

_Linger, but don't linger too long._ Stephen did just that…lifting his lips from her skin, allowing his thumb to brush over the area where he had kissed her, before finally lifting his eyes, smiling up at her, and straightening himself up. "Goodnight, Meg," he murmured, bowing one more time, as he released her hand…before giving it an affectionate squeeze—something Erik didn't tell him to do, but that felt right to do—and began to walk backwards, praying that he didn't make a fool of himself by tripping.

Meg's hand was tingling, and she smiled as he began to walk away, realizing that he was the sort of gentleman who would, of course, wait for a lady to go inside before turning his back on her. She couldn't recall the last time a boyfriend had done anything like that for her. And she couldn't let such an outstanding man like him walk away without him knowing that she truly appreciated everything…about _him_.

Stephen froze as he realized she was quickly walking towards him, worried that perhaps he had done something wrong…when he realized she was leaning up and brushing her lips against his cheek. "Goodnight," she smiled, before turning and hurrying inside the warm shelter of her building.

Stephen's cheek was tingling, and he fought every urge to throw his hands up and whoop to the heavens! Once she was out of sight, he turned and practically danced to the limo, the driver watching with him with amusement.

Stephen dug for his cell phone, which was buried deep within his jacket pocket, and immediately began dialing Erik's number. "Erik!" he nearly shouted. "Erik, she kissed my cheek! She had a good time! She said she loved tonight! She wants to spend Thanksgiving with me!"

Erik was trying to catch everything Stephen was saying, but despite it all, he was grinning proudly. He knew Stephen Dulane would do well; he truly was Prince Charming in peasant's clothing.

_One date down_, Erik thought to himself. Now he had to focus all his energy on himself for his own date, tomorrow. _I wish I had my own Date Phantom to instruct me…_


	12. Preparing Cinderella for the Ball

**Author's Note: Erik and Christine's date has turned into such a massive story line, that I had to divide it into two chapters--I just thought you would find the preparations leading up to it so cute and fun that I gave it its own chapter, here. The date itself will be coming soon! Thanks so much for your support, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Summary: **Both Erik and Christine prepare for their evening in different ways, but the one thing they have in common is the excited nervousness they're feeling!

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Preparing Cinderella for the Ball_**

_8:12a.m. _

Christine groaned as she held another rejected outfit up to her reflection in the mirror. No, that one wouldn't do either; it was too…she didn't know, but it just wasn't right! With a shriek of exasperation, she threw the outfit onto the floor, letting it join the pile of already discarded outfits, a pile that was proving to be larger than what she had left in her closet. "Damn it all!" she shouted with a bit of a stomp, something she knew the old lady who lived below her would complain about, but right now, Christine didn't care. She was feeling far too much stress, and why? Because she was going on a date with a guy she really_, really_ liked.

The phone rang then, and Christine threw up a curse, as she stomped over to her nightstand and grabbed the white cordless phone, fully prepared to hear her downstairs neighbor fill her ear with complaints for her stomping. "Sorry Mrs. Butler, I—"

"Who's Mrs. Butler?" Meg asked.

Christine rolled her eyes heavenward, glad that she didn't have to deal with the grumpy old Scottish woman at this hour. "Neighbor," she muttered. "Anyway, what's up?" She assumed Meg was calling to give her a report on the night before. She was actually surprised her friend hadn't called her last night; she had stayed awake till 2am, just in case. However, when her grandmother's grandfather clock chimed two, she assumed two things: either the night had gone really bad, and Meg didn't want to talk about…or it had gone really good, and Meg _couldn't_ talk about it…at least not right then.

She was hoping for the latter story…without the explicit details.

"So, how was last night?" Christine asked, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she continued rummaging through her closet.

It was amazing; she could _hear_ Meg's grin. "Oh Chris, it was fantastic! Oh, I wanted to call you last night, but it was nearly three in the morning by the time I got in," she giggled. "I've never had such a fun time at a fashion show in my whole life!"

_Wow, Stephen Dulane is good!_ Christine couldn't remember the last time Meg sounded so happy after a date. "Well, don't stop there, give me details…"

Meg launched into her story, how Stephen immediately won Simon Patrillo over, all the interesting things he had to say about fashion, as well as Simon's personal collection, how he stood up to Jason Cartwright and defended her, and how he spent the whole evening just making sure she was comfortable in whatever way was possible. "OH! And the suit he wore, it was phenomenal! I never knew that he had such great fashion sense!"

Christine was impressed as well. Stephen always seemed so nervous, so unsure of himself…and a bit of klutz. But that Stephen seemed to have disappeared, at least according to what Meg said.

"It sounds like you had a great time," Christine grinned, feeling very happy for her friend. Meg was such a good person, she deserved a good guy. "And will there be a future date?" Christine bit her lip after saying this; she knew that Meg had really asked Stephen to be her date because she desperately needed a date for the fashion show. But as far as Christine was aware, that's all Meg saw him as, a good friend who could help a girl out in a jam. Which was a shame, since he genially seemed like a great guy.

"Actually…" Meg murmured, and Christine was amazed once more; she could hear Meg blushing! "Stephen invited me to spend Thanksgiving with him."

Christine nearly dropped her phone. Every year, Brian, and his wife Susan, always invited both her and Meg to spend Thanksgiving with them. Christine normally went, however Meg would often spend the holiday alone, a reason that Christine had never been able to understand. The year before last, she had insisted on coming over, and spent the evening with Meg, watching "The Wizard of Oz" on television and singing all the songs together, while munching on pints of Ben and Jerry's. Meg seemed to have such fun, that she was sure that the following year they would spend Thanksgiving together again. But for some reason, Meg always seemed to request the day to herself. Christine understood that everyone needed their space and their "alone time", days when they could just vegetate by themselves, but Thanksgiving seemed so lonely to spend by oneself…

And yet Stephen Dulane had somehow cracked the Thanksgiving code with Meg Giry.

"So…are you going?" Christine asked, nibbling on her bottom lip. What did that mean, anyway? "Spend Thanksgiving with him"? Was he inviting her to spend the holiday with his family? Was he inviting her to come over to his place, and it would just be the two of them? Or was he coming to her place? Christine frowned; was it even a date? Or simply a nice, holiday gesture?

"I know I normally take the day off for myself," Meg murmured, a slight hint of embarrassment in her voice at the confession. "But…I think it would be fun! And it would be a great way at getting to know him better."

_Hmmm. It has all the makings of a date, but it also has all the security of _not_ being seen as a date. Very clever._

"Hey, I just realized something," Meg said, interrupting Christine's thoughts. "It's eight in the morning. I thought I would be waking you up with my phone call…" Meg was not wrong by her observation; Saturdays were sacred to Christine, and she normally slept in till at least eleven. "What on earth got you up at this hour?"

"Just couldn't sleep," Christine muttered, which was partially true. She had finally forced herself to go to sleep around three, and then awoke around seven, feeling far too wired.

"What are you doing?" Meg asked, her voice filled with suspicion.

"Nothing…" Christine lied.

"I know that sound…" Meg murmured, and then she let out a loud gasp. "You're in your closet! I can hear you shifting through your clothes!"

How did she do it? Meg was the only person on the planet that could tell what sort of clothes one was trying on…simply by _hearing_ them.

"Why are you going through your clothes?" Meg asked, her voice going from suspicious, to nosey. "And Chris, I can hear that you're holding a silk blouse; put that away, it is far too cold for something like that. Silk is for spring, not winter."

Once more…how _did_ she do it?

Christine knew she had to come clean, after all, Brian knew the truth, and it was unfair to leave Meg, her own best friend, in the dark. "I'm…goingonadate," she quickly mumbled.

"What?"

She sighed before repeating, in a clearer voice, "I'm going on a date."

There was a long pause. "Is it with the masked guy from the restaurant?"

_Here we go_. "Erik…yes, it is with him."

There was another long pause. And then…

"OH MY GOD! YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE WITH THE SEXY MASKED GUY!?!"

Christine pulled the phone away, her ear ringing from Meg's exuberant scream. "Yes!" she practically shouted, although it was more because she couldn't hear herself. "Yes, I am going on a date with the sexy masked guy…whose name is Erik."

Christine blushed at the description; Meg wasn't wrong, nor would Christine deny it…Erik _was_ sexy. She didn't know what it was specifically that made her melt: was it that sexy, deep voice of his? His charm and manners? Or was it as simple as the way he stood, tall and broad shouldered, confident and smiling. Oh gosh, who was she kidding? It was all that and more!

"Christine!?!"

Christine woke from her trance at the sound of Meg's exasperated voice. "Sorry, I um…you were saying?"

"I said, oh day dreamer," Meg repeated, causing Christine to blush. "That I can't believe you didn't tell me about this sooner!"

Christine bit her lip; she wasn't sure why she was keeping her date a secret, exactly. Was it because she was embarrassed of her long "drought" from dating? Was it because of the so-called reputation she had built for herself as "The Happy Single"? Was it because she was worried that too much attention would jinx the whole thing? It was probably all of those things. "Meg, I'm sorry, it's just—"

"I'll be RIGHT over!" her friend announced, and without another word, she hung up.

"Great," Christine grumbled. The last thing she needed for the evening was to be made into a huge spectacle. "It's just dinner," she murmured over and over. "That's all it is, just a simple dinner date…with the first _gentleman_ you've ever met." She threw her hands up in defeat, knowing that no amount of "relaxation mantra" was going to help her. Might as well just sit and wait for Meg to get over there and coach her as a trainer would coach a boxer; she just hoped her coach had some lessons on not losing one's heart too quickly…

* * *

_9:06a.m._

"Erik?" Stephen called out, upon entering the lavish New York penthouse. Erik told him to come over around 9, after returning the suit Stephen had borrowed from the night before, to give him all the details on how the date with Meg had gone. The doorman downstairs, another former client of Erik's, let him in without even having to be buzzed up—Erik had told the doorman that he would have company coming. "Erik?" Stephen called out once more, looking around the front hallway, wondering where his friend was.

"In here!" Erik called, his voice sounding more like a grunt, as if he were breathing quite heavily.

Stephen heard classical music playing, and followed the sound down the hallway until he reached the room where it was coming from. "Erik?" he asked, poking his head around the doorway his jaw falling open at the sight that greeted him.

The small room had been converted into a home gym, complete with treadmill, weight machines, free weights, and an iron bar that hung inside an open doorway, which no doubt had been designed to be a closet, except Erik had found a way to use it for exercise instead. Erik was shirtless and hanging upside down…literally. His knees were wrapped around the bar, and he was giving himself upside down sit-ups, the muscles in his torso and chest rippling with every movement.

"I'll…be…with you…in a moment…" Erik grunted as he finished his last set. "Wait…for me…in…my office."

Stephen mutely nodded his head, a feeling of envy flowing through him in that moment; what he wouldn't give to have a body like Erik's!

Erik finished his workout as soon as Stephen disappeared, and lowered himself to the floor, grabbing a towel, and wiping the sweat off his chest and arms. Once he was sure that Stephen was out of sight, he quickly removed his mask and wiped the sweat from his face. Within a few moments, he entered the office, wearing a clean shirt and feeling physically ready for his date with Christine…not that anything physical would be happening, he reminded himself…somewhat reluctantly.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked, walking over to a small refrigerator he kept in the corner of his office, and getting a bottle water out for himself. He was surprisingly alert; especially since he only had a few hours worth of sleep last night. From six to nine, he had been working out, running on his treadmill, lifting weights, and concluding the whole day with sit-ups. He was a recluse, true, but he still believed in trying to live healthy.

"No thanks," Stephen murmured, his eyes still enviously looking at Erik's now covered chest.

Erik said nothing, he simply sat down at his desk and opened Stephen's file folder. "Well, I gather from the late night phone call, that it did go well…?"

Stephen's face broke into a huge grin. "It was fantastic! I think she really had a great time—"

"You _think_ she had a great time?" Erik asked, interrupting and lifting his unseen eyebrows in question.

A smile broke across Stephen's face. Once upon a time he would not have been able to answer so confidently. "Yes, she _did_ have a good time," he grinned. "In fact, she told me so."

"I'm glad," Erik smiled, feeling proud of his new friend. "So go on, tell me everything; your introductions, the dinner, the show, all that followed, and especially the part where you said goodnight."

Stephen was beaming, and launched into the story, telling Erik everything he didn't say when he had called him late last night. "And thank you so much for the information you gave me on Simon Patrillo, I don't think that would have gone as smoothly if it hadn't been for you."

Erik smiled. "You're most welcome. But it's up to you to do your own research from now on, all right? It's part of being prepared when you go into a situation that you know nothing about, or that you feel like a fish out of water."

Stephen nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, I see what you mean by that. It's good to have a 'game plan'."

Erik couldn't agree more, although he was completely clueless of his game plan for his evening with Christine. He was going to be like a fish out of water…he was going out! But unlike Stephen's fashion show date, he had no way of researching for this evening out.

There wasn't much he knew about Christine, other than the few things she had told him on their walk. When he had asked her out for dinner, he already knew which restaurant he wanted to take her to, but then it occurred to him that he didn't know what sort of food she liked, which made him worry if perhaps she had any sort of food allergies, or she was only into organic and kosher foods, or if she were a vegetarian! All he had planned for their evening was dinner, and he didn't want to ruin that by taking her to the wrong place! And he didn't want their evening to be _just_ dinner, either, but he didn't know what she liked to do for fun. He was normally very good at thinking creatively, at coming up with small, romantic gestures to help one's date…but when it came to Christine…he was absolutely clueless.

And that made him extremely nervous.

"And I did just as you instructed," Stephen continued, and Erik realized the accountant had been talking the whole time. "I kissed her hand, just as you had said, and backed away, never taking my eyes off her…and before she went inside, she kissed me!" he grinned, his face turning a bright red at the pleasant memory. "I mean, it was just on the cheek, but—"

"A kiss, of any kind, is precious," Erik interrupted, believing that with all his heart. It had been a long time since he had been kissed, in any sort of way, and the last kiss he had given was on Christine's hand, when they were standing outside her apartment. Many people took kisses for granted, and many didn't even count the kisses given on cheeks or hands, but Erik had long since learned, especially when you had a face like his, that a kiss of any sort, was far more precious than gold.

Stephen smiled at Erik's words, liking them very much. "A kiss from Miss Giry is extremely precious," he agreed. "OH! And as I said last night, I did ask her out again, to spend Thanksgiving with me!"

Erik cocked an unseen eyebrow at this. "Thanksgiving? She has no family or friends to spend the holiday with?"

"W-well…she gave me the impression that, that she spends it alone," he frowned at this. "Which is so strange to me, since she's adored by so many!"

Erik looked down at his desk, his fingers lightly tapping the wooden surface. "Sometimes the loneliest people in the world are the ones who are crowded around so many others."

Stephen knew what Erik meant, and it saddened him to think that Meg was one of those people; she was so sweet and kind, and he couldn't imagine someone not wanting to be around her all the time. "Well, she was very happy to accept my offer, and I can't deny that I'm extremely nervous! I have family over in Jersey, and they always ask me when I'm going to bring a date—"

"May I make a suggestion?" Erik interrupted. Stephen nibbled on his lip but nodded his head. "Perhaps the reason Miss Giry does not spend the holiday with others is because she prefers small gatherings, as opposed to large ones. Perhaps it would be better to simply celebrate the holiday…together."

Stephen's eyes went wide as he slowly took in everything Erik was saying. "You…you mean…j-j-just the t-two of us?"

A grin spread across Erik's face, and he nodded his head. "And imagine how much more meaningful your day will be when you invite her over for a Thanksgiving meal that you've prepared yourself?"

Stephen began to pale at this suggestion. "P-p-p-prepared?" he gulped. "B-b-but I…I…" his palms were sweating at the idea. "I don't know how to cook! I mean, not a turkey or anything fancy—"

The phone rang then, and Erik grabbed it the way a Venus fly trap snatches up its prey. "Don't worry, I'll teach you," he murmured, before looking at the number on the caller ID. "I apologize Stephen, but I have to take this," he clicked the "talk" button on the phone and raised it to his ear. "Jonathon?"

"Hey buddy! I made the arrangements, just like you asked."

Erik let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, I appreciate your help, truly."

Jonathon chuckled. "Hey, what are friends for? Look at it this way: you helped me with Wendy, the least I can do is help you with…hey, you never told me the lady's name?"

Erik could feel his face burn beneath his mask. He hadn't told Jonathon anything about Christine because…well, he really didn't know why, but he just didn't feel like alerting the news that he, after a decade of avoiding women, was going out on a date.

"Fine, be all mysterious Mr. Date Phantom," Jonathon groaned into the phone. "But if you two hit it off, you have to bring her over some time to our place."

Erik grimaced at the idea. "We'll see," he grumbled, "but first I have to get through tonight."

"You know, Wendy keeps asking me questions about her, can't you at least describe to us what she looks like?"

"Leave him alone!" Wendy's voice now filled Erik's ear, and Erik's face flushed even more as he realized that she had picked up a different phone and was listening in. "And I didn't say anything of the sort!"

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't!"

Erik could feel a headache coming on. He glanced at Stephen, who was watching him with curious eyes, and wished more than anything that a black hole would swallow him up. "Look, I'm just going to let you two—"

"Wait! Erik, I have a great idea! Why don't you bring her over for Thanksgiving next week!" Wendy cried, sounding excited at the idea of cooking for a large group. Wendy loved playing hostess, and she always insisted that Erik spend every social holiday imaginable with her and Jonathon.

"He has to get through tonight, honey," Jonathon groaned.

A snort escaped Wendy's nose in that moment. "Oh please, that won't be hard," she turned her attention back to Erik. "Trust me, with you being yourself, she is going to fall head over heels in love with you like that," she stated, with a snap of her fingers.

"I'm hanging up now," Erik warned, knowing he could not take this much more. "I'm with a client at the moment, I'll talk to you both later."

"Call us tonight!" Jonathon shouted.

"Yes!" Wendy agreed. "We want to hear everything!"

Erik couldn't put the phone down fast enough; his face felt like it was on fire, and he was so grateful for the mask at the moment. He felt like a kid going on his first date, with his parents standing over his shoulder, wanting to take pictures and being nothing but an embarrassment. He was thirty-two years old, not sixteen, and this wasn't his first date anyway!

It just felt like it…

"Is everything alright?" Stephen asked, his eyes filled with a little concern, but more confusion than anything else.

"Yes, sorry about that," Erik muttered, pretending to be writing notes in the file folder in front of him. "Um, I'm glad to hear that things went so well with Meg, and don't worry about the cooking thing, it's not that difficult, I'll help in whatever way I can, and on Thanksgiving, she'll believe you're a gourmet chef."

Stephen highly doubted that, but he was willing to trust Erik. After all, Erik had helped him relax and become a hit with Simon's fashion show. Cooking food for Thanksgiving should be a breeze…

"So," Stephen sighed, his eyes falling to the phone once more. "Big date tonight?"

Erik's pen went flying out of his fingers and sailing across the room. If Stephen hadn't ducked, the pen would have hit him in the forehead.

"W-w-w-what?" Erik asked, clearing his throat immediately, trying to desperately cover up his embarrassment.

Stephen looked puzzled by Erik's behavior. For as long as he had known the masked man, he had never seen him act so…strangely.

"I simply thought that you were talking about another client's date…"

"Another client?" Erik asked, his own brow creasing with confusion. And then it dawned on him; Stephen had assumed that everything Erik had been saying to Jonathon was about setting up a romantic atmosphere…for someone else. "Ah yes, another client!" Inside, Erik was shrinking, feeling absolutely wretched for lying, but it made more sense to go along with Stephen's assumptions; after all, he was a masked freak of nature; what sort of woman in her right mind would be interested in going on a date with him?

_A woman like Christine, an exceptional woman who has you doing crazy things…like asking her out…_

"Sounds like you have quite a night planned," Stephen murmured with a warm smile. "Another fashion show?" he joked.

Erik found himself chuckling, although he could feel the guilt begin to eat away at him. _It's my personal business; I don't have to tell anyone about what's going on in my personal life. Stephen hired me to help him with Miss Giry, but I never hired anyone to help me with Christine!_ He winced at that last part; how he wished he had someone to talk to and seek advice from…

"I'll leave you to finish your work for this evening," Stephen murmured, scrambling to his feet from the chair he was sitting in. He had the sudden desire to go out and consider purchasing his own exercise equipment.

Erik chuckled, somewhat nervously, at Stephen's words. "I'll call you on Monday and we'll set up a schedule so that I can give you those cooking lessons."

Stephen smiled, thanked Erik for his time, and was about to turn and leave, when Erik suddenly called out his name, and the accountant turned, looking confused…and somewhat concerned, by the slight desperate tone in the masked man's voice.

"Wait…before you go, I um…I have a question to ask you…" Erik felt absolutely foolish, but he would be even more foolish for going into this thing completely blind. "You may not know much, but…I thought I would ask anyway…" Erik inwardly cursed himself, before locking eyes with Stephen's. "If you would be so kind…could you please tell me everything that you do know about Miss Davis?"

* * *

_1:37p.m._

"Yes!"

"No, absolutely not."

"Oh come on, you look stunning!"

"No Meg, and that is final!" Christine turned away from the mirror and attempted to undo the zipper at her side, which she hated; side zippers were always impossible to undo…or do up, for that matter. If Meg hadn't been in the dressing room with her, she would never have gotten the dress on in the first place.

After Meg had arrived at her apartment—in the record breaking time of ten minutes—she took one look at Christine's closet, shook her head, and grabbed Christine by the hands, before pulling her out the door. Within seconds, they were in a cab and whizzing down the street, stopping at a few select shops on New York's posh 5th Avenue. Christine wanted a black hole to swallow her up.

The shops were decedent, lavish, elegant…and expensive. Even though Christine made good money from the magazine, there was no way she could afford a dress that cost more than her monthly rent. But Meg insisted, grabbing a few dresses off the racks, thrusting them into Christine's hands, and then pushing her into a dressing room, threatening her that she would come in there and force the dress on, herself, if Christine did not try. Reluctantly, and with much grumbling, Christine did as Meg asked, and tried on all the dresses, although none of them were winning her over.

There was a soft, navy blue dress that had a wide V in the front that shot down from her between her breasts, all the way to her navel. That was a BIG no.

There was a pretty purple dress, that was designed to hug and accentuate a woman's curves, but it was quite short (much shorter than Christine was comfortable with) and it was also a few sizes too small. "I will not wear something that I can not properly breathe in!" Christine was beginning to become annoyed. There were several other dresses, but all had the same problems: too tight in some areas, too bulky in others, too wild, too racy, and too tacky.

"Meg, can we please go?" Christine groaned, wishing more than anything that she could crawl in bed and sleep until the weekend was over. The excitement she had been feeling all week for her date was quickly disappearing; she was dreading it now, not because of him, of course, but because she just knew it spelled disaster, at least disaster from her part.

"Try this one on, please?" Meg begged, grabbing one more dress off a clothing rack.

"Meg, I'm tired. I didn't get much sleep last night, the last thing I ate was a granola bar from this morning—"

"Just try this one on, and then I _promise_, we can leave."

"You said that three dresses ago," Christine muttered.

"Well this time I mean it!" Meg grinned, trying to win Christine over with her "cute smile" that seemed to work on everyone else.

Christine rolled her eyes and took the dress out of her friend's hands. It was bright red: not scarlet or crimson or any other shade, but bright, sports car, red. It was also strapless…and short.

"I don't think so—"

"Come on, you'll look so sexy in it!"

"Have you seen the price on this thing?"

"Ugh! Christine Davis, just shut up and try it on!"

Meg was a petite woman…with a mighty bark, if she chose to use it. Christine nearly jumped at the sound, and quickly pulled the dressing room curtain back, sighing once more as she gazed at the red dress which obviously would not fit her, like all the others. But she decided to prove her point to Meg about this matter, and began to slip it on…

It fit.

Like a glove.

Christine had to do a double take at her reflection. The dress, despite how tiny it looked on the hanger, fit her body perfectly, molding to her frame, flattering her figure, and accentuating her curves. Her breasts, which were not large, were "healthily" boosted upward, making them appear somewhat larger…and giving the onlooker's imagine a run for his money. Her waist, which had always been a portion of her body that she disliked, looked slim in the dress…and the skirt, while short, was not too short; it stopped just above her knees, and flared out slightly, making the length of her legs appear long and slender. Christine sucked in a breath as she gazed at her reflection from all angles; it was the first time in a long time…that she felt pretty.

Meg didn't even bother to knock; she flung the curtain back and gasped at the sight of her friend. "Oh my God! You look GORGEOUS!"

Christine whirled around, and the two immediately began arguing over the dress. "No, it's too expensive…"

"I'll give you a raise so you can pay the credit card bill," Meg argued.

"It's too striking, too flashy…"

"It's elegant and simple," Meg grinned with admiration. "And the color should be striking! My gosh Christine, red looks so good on you!"

"It has a side zipper," Christine grumbled, trying anything now. "Side zippers are impossible to do up by oneself!"

Meg rolled her eyes, gripped the side zipper, and pulled until it was fastened just beneath Christine's underarm. "I'll be here to help you put it on…and Erik can help you take it off," she grinned mischievously.

Christine's face paled for a moment, before darkening to a color that would make the dress jealous. "No, no, I can't wear this, and I certainly can't buy it," she began to tug on the zipper, trying her hardest to get it off.

"Why not?" Meg asked, confused by her friend's behavior. "It looks great on you, it fits you perfectly, you look beautiful—"

"Meg, it's our FIRST date!" Christine interrupted, her cheeks blazing. "We're just going out to dinner, and I don't even know where! This is probably too fancy anyway, and…and…" she couldn't think of any more excuses, she just wanted to get out of there.

Meg eyed her friend with concern. "Chris…what's really bothering you? I know it's not the dress, and I know it's not Erik. He's a great guy! At least that was what struck me about him when we all had dinner last Monday—"

"I haven't been on a date in three years," Christine sighed, feeling absolutely pathetic. "My past boyfriends were either liars, cheats, bums, or…" she rubbed her cheek as an old, ugly memory stirred. "Or abusive," she whispered. She shook her head and locked eyes with her friend's. "The point is they were all bastards, and any other dates that I have been on have never been good, and—"

"Chris, Erik is nothing like those guys," Meg's hands reached out and took hold of Christine's shoulders so that her friend could not turn away. "We both haven't had the best of luck when it comes to love," she softly joked. "But don't immediately worry that Erik is going to turn out like that; give him a chance, give _yourself_ a chance," she murmured with a tender smile.

Christine knew Meg was right, she was just so afraid of all the bad things that could happen based on her bad experiences. But if she went into the date automatically thinking those things…neither Erik, nor herself, would find any enjoyment. And she really, _really_ liked him.

"I don't even know how to prepare myself," she mumbled, looking down at her feet. "What to say, how to behave—"

"That, my dear, will come naturally," Meg grinned. "Trust me, Chris. You just be yourself, it won't take him long to fall in love with you…if he hasn't already," she grinned with a wiggle of the eyebrows.

Christine blushed deeply, but she felt hope lift in her heart. No matter how hard she tried to fight it herself, she knew it wouldn't take much for her to fall in love with him…

"Ok! So we've agreed on the dress," Meg announced. "Now we'll need to get you shoes, stockings, a purse to match…oh! What about lingerie?"

Christine gave her friend a glare, but she joined in Meg's giggles. Erik didn't strike her as the sort of man who would "try" anything, at least not on the first date. After all, he just kissed her hand after escorting her back to her apartment; he was a complete gentleman.

But would he try to kiss her tonight? She felt her knees turn to jelly at the thought. His mouth looked so tempting, so inviting, and his eyes just had this power over her, not to mention his voice…

Christine shook her head, her body tingling all over. She needed to get a hold of herself, she needed to calm down and take things slowly. _Oh cruel irony_, she thought to herself. _All my life I've tried to avoid having sex on the first date…and just my luck, I meet the first true gentleman in…well, _ever_…and that's all I can think about!_

* * *

_6:24p.m._

"Are you sure? I mean, you know I won't charge you, if that's what this is all about—"

"I know that, Pete," Erik tried to reassure the older man over the phone, which was proving to be a more difficult task than he had suspected. Pete was so used to driving Erik to meet all his clients, he had assumed that he would also be escorting Erik to and from his date with Christine; how Pete found out, Erik didn't know, although he had a strong suspicion that Jonathon was behind it.

"I am very discreet, you know that. I would never—"

"I do know that," Erik interrupted, biting his lip to hold back his moan and removing his mask so that he could rub the bridge of his nose. "Pete, it's not about money, or a lack of trust, or anything else that you think I'm holding against you, please…I just felt…that a limonene would be a little…daunting, for a first date."

_And hopefully there will be a second date…and third, and many more._

"But surely she'll find it romantic, don't you think?" Pete tried one more time, hope still in his voice.

Erik suppressed his groan once more; after all, he knew that the old man only wanted to help him. "Yes, I'm sure she would find it romantic, but she and I are still getting to know one another, and I don't want to overwhelm her…"

Pete may not have realized it, but Erik was all too aware that a limo could spell disaster in a number of ways. Christine may wonder what he did for a living; he told her he was a composer, but what sort of composer drove around in a limo? She may also think he was being arrogant and showing off, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable in any way. "Another time, Pete, I promise," Erik hoped his voice sounded jovial; he was trying to conquer his nerves and he did not wish to be late with picking Christine up. "But please, do not worry, you've done nothing wrong, alright?"

There was a pause on the phone, and then the old man let out a sigh of defeat. "Alright," he mumbled. "Good luck."

Erik felt sorry for the old man, he had not meant to hurt Pete's feelings, but he did have a feeling this was for the best. "Remember what I said about the first date, Pete? About no matter how many flowers or gifts you give her, or how many extravagant places you take her, she can see right through all that stuff and detect whether you're feelings are genuine or not?"

"Yeah," Pete mumbled. "The most important thing a man can give his date is a good impression and a fun time."

"That's right," Erik said, hoping his words could provide a little comfort, if not help the older man understand where he was coming from. "And I do thank you Pete, for all that you have done, and I promise you, if this date goes well and leads to a second, you'll be the first to know."

Pete seemed to brighten slightly at this, or at least his voice sounded brighter as he wished Erik good luck one last time, before hanging up. Erik let out a deep sigh as he placed the phone back on the receiver, and ran his hand over his face, grimacing as he felt his many deformities. He lifted his eyes then and looked across from where he stood, catching his reflection in a small mirror that hung on the opposite wall.

He didn't like mirrors, for obvious reasons, and the small one that hung on the wall, and the one in his bathroom, were the only two he had. He gazed at his reflection for a moment, trying to focus his eyes on the clothes he was wearing rather than his maskless deformed face. He wore black trousers, a black suit jacket, and a white shirt with black pinstripes, the collar buttons undone to give the outfit a slight sense of casualness, while still looking formal. His dark hair was slicked back from his recent shower (he never used gel or any other sort of hair products), his black shoes were polished, and his teeth had just been brushed. With the exception of his face, he thought he looked decent for the evening.

_With the exception of my face. _

He sighed once more and put his mask back on, lifting his eyes one more time to the mirror, a frown settling over his features. He looked ten times better now, with the mask back on, but he still wasn't happy. What was he thinking? She was a beautiful woman with intelligence and wit who could have any guy she wanted…and yet, for some reason, she had settled on a date with him, the man with the face that looked like pulverized meat.

_Well she can't know about that_, he told himself. Two different women he had once dated years ago had told him that they found the mask to be mysterious and very sexy. Unfortunately, they all wanted him to remove the mask and see what was underneath…and when he refused to oblige them, they would then take it from him, and it would always end the same way; with looks of disgust, revulsion, horror, and sometimes fear. Erik knew he was not cut out for romance, at least not as a man who was meant to experience it himself.

But Christine Davis awakened something inside him that he hadn't felt in so long.

_Hope_.

"This is crazy," Erik grumbled to himself. It was sure to be doomed to failure…and yet, a strong part of him wanted to see it through.

Erik glanced up at the clock that hung next to his mirror and realized that it was getting late. He had promised to pick her up at seven, and he was determined to be on time. With one last glance at himself, he gathered his courage, grabbed his wallet, as well as a small gift he had gotten for her, pulled on his coat (the one he had lent her that night at The Plaza) and left into what truly felt, for him, like the great unknown.

* * *

_6:57p.m._

Christine was standing in the hallway just inside the door to her apartment building. She had come downstairs five minutes ago, not being able to stand being in her apartment for another moment longer, especially with Meg fussing over her and trying to give her some dating "advice". Not that she didn't need it…heaven help her, she felt like an idiot.

_And I look like a desperate one at that_, she thought to herself, as she paced the length of the hallway.

The shrill ring of her cell phone startled her, and Christine scrambled the inside of her new evening bag to find it. Oh gosh, Erik wasn't canceling was he? Not that she should be surprised, there had been a few times in her past where her date or boyfriend canceled at the last minute…

_Hang on, Erik doesn't even know my number_, Christine reminded herself. She really needed to stop being so paranoid.

She frowned as she realized that the number, according to her phone's caller ID, was none other than her own apartment's. "Hello?"

"Is he there yet?"

Christine rolled her eyes. "No Meg, not yet. But I'm sure you can tell by simply looking out the window if a car has pulled up or not."

Meg giggled and Christine heard the sound of her window blinds being lifted. "I don't see anyone out there. Oh Chris, this is stupid, come back upstairs, please? I promise not to fuss over your hair, or make up, or anything—"

Her voice stopped and Christine could tell that something had caught Meg's attention. "What? What is it?" Oh God, was it him? Could Meg see him coming up to the building? Christine peered outside from the hallway, but the windows were tinted and slightly foggy due to the cold weather.

"False alarm," Meg sighed. "A cab was pulling up, but the occupant wasn't Erik."

Christine sighed, although she wasn't sure if it was a sigh of relief, or disappointment.

"Calm down, Chris, he's going to come; he's a gentleman, remember?"

Yes, he was a gentleman, one who happened to wear a mask and who Christine knew very little about, save for the fact that he was born in France, lived in England, went to Columbia University in New York, composed opera—

Ok, maybe she did know a little more than the average person, but there were still so many things she didn't know. What sort of books did he like to read? What were his favorite movies? Gosh, she didn't even know what his favorite opera was, and he composed opera for a living! There was still so much to learn about him…

"Oh my gosh, it's him!"

Christine practically dropped the phone at Meg's shriek of excitement. "Y-y-you see him?" she nervously stuttered, biting her lip and wishing there was a mirror somewhere around so she could check her make up one last time.

"Yes, it's him!" Meg giggled excitedly. "He just pulled up in a cab…and he's exiting it now…"

Sure enough, Christine glanced out the window of the hallway and felt her breath catch in her throat as her tall, dark, masked hero from The Plaza Hotel slowly began to approach her building.

"He looks good, Chris," Meg added. "Oh, I think he's coming into the building…Chris? Chris can you hear me? Chr—"

Christine hung up the cell phone and before Erik could reach for the call box, she opened the door and stood before him, a bright, blushing smile, spreading across her face as she looked up at him. God, he looked good; and she recognized the coat he was wearing immediately, and her blush brightened even more. "Hi…"

Erik was startled by her sudden appearance; he had been leaning over the call box, trying to find her name on the faded paper beside it, and there she was, standing in all her beauty before him, her hair pulled back and up, a few brown curls falling about her face, her blue eyes shimmering, her face glowing beautifully; God in heaven, she was a vision.

"Good evening," Erik murmured, his surprise melting away into a warm smile. "You beat me downstairs, I see. I hope I haven't kept you waiting—"

"Oh! Oh no, no, you're right on time," she grinned, although feeling slightly embarrassed for waiting downstairs.

Erik smiled again, and Christine felt her insides melt even more. Was he even aware at what his smile did to her? "Shall we?" He did that thing again, that thing that made Christine's legs turn to jelly; he offered her his arm.

She couldn't talk, she simply smiled and nodded her head, before wrapping her arm around his, and allowing him to lead her outside.

Overhead, Meg watched with a huge grin as Erik opened the cab door for Christine and helped her inside, before quickly moving around and getting inside himself. She giggled as the cab pulled away from the curb, feeling like the fairy godmother from Cinderella. "Don't worry, though," she murmured as she watched the cab drive down the street. "I promise not to punish you if you're not back by midnight."


	13. First Date

**Summary: **Erik and Christine's long awaited date... (a nice loooooooong chapter, which I hope you very much enjoy!)

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_First Date_**

He was thirty-two years old, a grown man who had been complimented often, as a child, for his maturity…

And yet, right now, he felt like a young teenager on his first date.

Christine took his breath away, and out of the corner of his eye, Erik glanced at her and felt his chest tighten once more in wonder. She was stunning, absolutely stunning! Her hair had been pulled back, and it was lifted up off her shoulders, giving Erik a glimpse of her creamy, slender neck. He loved how a few curls had escaped her hairstyle and were falling around her face and ears, and it took every ounce of willpower not to reach over and brush them aside. Her head was turned, looking out the window of her door, and he admired her profile, loving the blush that glowed upon her cheeks, the way her lashes brushed her face when she blinked, and her lips…God, was there anything more tempting?

In his mind, Erik was reaching across the cab and grabbing her up in his arms, and kissing her passionately, feeling her soft, sweet body melt against his, her breasts pressed against his chest, her legs moving to wrap around his waist, while his lips ravished hers, his tongue making love to her mouth, and his hands moving across her tempting, beautiful curves, feeling her body rise against his while he pressed himself even closer, their clothes being pulled away, their hearts crying out for freedom in the name of passion, in the name of ecstasy, in the name of—

"I normally can't stand seeing Christmas decorations up before Thanksgiving, but I have to admit…the trees look beautiful, all decorated in white lights, glittering off the wet pavement…"

Erik shook his head at Christine's words, and found himself leaning further back in his seat, and carefully crossing his legs so as not to draw her attention to the obvious sign of his recent fantasy. "Y-yes," he coughed in agreement, not trusting his voice to say anything more at the moment. He hated cabs; they were always too small for him, and a part of him was wishing he had taken Pete up on his offer. He was also not too pleased with himself; Christine was a lady, a lady who deserved gentlemanly behavior, and his recent thoughts were _anything_ but gentlemanly.

Christine glanced over at him, a smile playing at her lips, although it was a nervous smile. They hadn't really spoken much since they climbed into the cab, and the silence certainly felt awkward. Christine always envisioned the perfect man being someone who she could sit in comfortable silence with, and a part of her felt she could do that with Erik…after all, weren't there some comfortable silent moments that they shared on their walk?

But this was a date, an _official_ date…and there was still much to learn about the other. "So…" Christine started, trying to think of something to say. "How's the opera coming?" She winced at her words; that could have come out so much better.

Erik seemed slightly taken surprise by her question, but turned to face her, after trying to adjust his weight once more in the cab, and answered. "It's slow, but it's coming along." That wasn't a complete lie; after his walk with her, Erik had pulled up his age-old opera that he had been working on for years and years, and examined it once more. He felt a sudden urge to sit down and compose, and for a few hours that night, he sat at the grand piano in his penthouse, and played a few bars and chords over and over, softly singing here and there. He hadn't touched his piano in what felt like years, and Erik realized how dearly he missed music…

Christine smiled a little at this, deciding to keep the subject going, remembering one of the many things she wanted to know. "Forgive me, this should be such an obvious thing to ask someone who composes opera, but I never asked," she murmured with a bashful smile. "Do you have a favorite opera?"

Erik found himself smiling at her question. "No need to ask forgiveness," he replied, warmly. "And yes, I do actually. _La Boheme_. Do you know it?"

Christine bit her lip, feeling a little uncultured. She had heard of the famous opera, but knew very little about it. "Everything I know about it, I know from the musical _Rent_," she admitted, somewhat bashfully. "Which is probably a huge difference."

Erik laughed at this, and Christine shivered at the wonderful sound; his laughter was a soft, warm blanket, which she just wanted to curl herself up in and snuggle down, deeply. "Actually, there are many likenesses," he grinned. "It's a tragic love story, but then…most opera are, sadly."

"Why is that?" Christine asked, her curiosity peaked. "I mean, why are most operas tragic?"

Erik found her question fascinating, and he realized then that he had never really asked it of himself. "You know? I have no idea," he found himself laughing, and Christine joined in. "I've studied music history and theory…and yet, I don't recall ever learning a reason as to why opera ends with death, murder, betrayal, or some other form of tragedy."

Christine laughed even more. "Perhaps you should break the mold?" she suggested. "And write the first opera that ends happily ever after?"

Erik smiled at her words and found himself gazing at her, his own eyes becoming lost in hers. Christine blushed deeply and quickly turned her head, her fingers fumbling with her evening bag. Silence soon fell over the two of them, but it didn't feel as awkward as before.

The cab suddenly went around a curve, a little too quickly, and came to a screeching halt, and Christine was practically flung against Erik's side. Erik's arms reached out to catch her, and for a brief moment, the two were looking at each other, both a little breathless from the ordeal, and both aware that they were very, very close…and had their arms around each other.

"Hey! Is this the place or not?" the driver barked, eager for his pay.

Christine's face was burning with embarrassment, and she quickly sat up, righting herself as best she could, trying to push away the few curls that had fallen loose. Erik's face was also burning, but his eyes were glaring coldly at the driver. Without another word, he opened his car door and quickly came around to Christine's side, opening her door for her and offering his arm to her. "Thank you," Christine murmured, taking a deep breath as she exited the cab. This was it; they were at their restaurant and now, the date would truly begin.

Erik paid the driver, making a point by leaving out a tip, and turned all his attention back to Christine who was gazing up at the restaurant before them. Now he would soon learn whether or not he had made a good choice. "Do you like Italian?" he asked, hoping her answer was yes. How horrible would it be if she told him that she was allergic to pasta?

Christine was smiling at the quaint little restaurant; it looked tiny, like a café, with a small red awning that hovered over its door, and two small, potted evergreens, that stood by its door, each lit with white Christmas lights, giving the place a warm, welcoming feel. It was then that Christine realized she had been asked a question. "Oh, I love Italian," she grinned, loving the look of this place already…and she wasn't even inside! "And I confess, I'm starving." She had a granola bar for breakfast, and a bowl of soup for lunch; she was so nervous that she didn't trust her stomach to handle much more. But now, as she gazed at the restaurant, she could feel her stomach growling with approval.

Erik smiled, relief washing over him. "Well, let's get inside," he grinned, his confidence beginning to rise as he offered her his arm, and opened the door for her.

* * *

Christine was utterly enchanted. 

The restaurant's name was Mama Mia's, a name that no one would suspect belonged to a small, elegant, Italian café, but this place certainly was just that. They were greeted by a short, plump, Italian woman, who stepped forward and took Christine's hands in hers, and pulled her down until the woman could kiss both of Christine's cheeks. "Bella! Bella!" the woman gasped with a happy smile as she gazed up at the brunette. "I'm Mia, and welcome to my restaurant!" she greeted with a thick accent. Christine smiled and thanked the woman for her greeting, before gasping as the woman grabbed a hold of her hand and firmly began to tug her one way. "Come, come, only the best for you both!"

Erik bit his lip as he watched Mia pull his date away. Mia's was one of the few restaurants he frequented, mainly because it was a small, out of the way secret place that few people knew about. It also happened to be a place where he sent many of his clients for dinner dates. Mia knew all about Erik's business, and he trusted her to keep his secret…after all, one if his clients had been her own son! She also knew that if it weren't Erik and his clients, her little restaurant would most likely go under, since it wasn't well known. So many of Erik's past clients came to the restaurant for anniversaries, or just because they wished to go someplace quiet and romantic. Mia took Erik's advice then about keeping it simple, elegant, quaint, and secretive; he told her it was one of the restaurant's many charms.

There were only a few people in the restaurant, but Erik didn't dare lift his eyes. He saw a few faces as he was coming in, and instantly recognized a few past clients; the last thing he needed was for them to start asking him what he was doing there with a woman, _himself_. That was why he had asked Jonathon to make all the arrangements with Mia beforehand.

Christine was surprised that she was being pulled outside through a back entrance of the small restaurant. There were a tiny, beautiful courtyard just behind it, the trees covered with the same white Christmas lights as the two potted evergreens, and scattered around the courtyard were a few small tables. She could only imagine how beautiful the courtyard would look in the spring, surrounded by colorful flowers, singing birds, and tiny butterflies. It was indeed very beautiful now, with the lights twinkling in the trees overhead…but surely they would not be sitting outside tonight? It was far too cold!

"Mia give you the very best!" the little woman stated with pride, as she led Christine through the courtyard, to a tiny building just beyond. The building was probably meant to have been a tool shed or garage, but instead it had been converted into a small, private dining room, that took Christine's breath away as she gazed inside.

The walls were a rich, cream color, with paintings by famous Italian artists hanging on the walls, including a copy of the Mona Lisa. There was only one table, and it was covered with a white tablecloth, fine china, and an old wine bottle that now contained a candle in its spout. In fact, the only light source in the whole room was candlelight; there were candles sitting in the windowsill, candles sitting in tall iron holders in the corners, and there was even a small fireplace at one end, filling the room with warmth and a soft, orange glow.

It was the most beautiful sight Christine had ever seen.

"What I tell you?" Mia grinned, her eyes darting back and forth between Erik and Christine. "Mia give you the very best, eh?"

Erik glanced at Christine, wondering what she was thinking. He couldn't see her face, she was standing in front of him, but he hoped above anything else, that she was smiling. He opened his mouth to speak, but Christine's words beat him to it. "It's absolutely breathtaking," she whispered. "I've never seen anything more beautiful…"

Erik felt his chest swell with pride, so happy that she approved, although he had to argue with her words. He certainly could think of _something_ more beautiful…

"Gratzi, gratzi," Mia blushed, her own chest puffing up with pride. "Now tonight is special; whatever you want, Mia will make it," she grinned with pride. "I'm the best cook in this whole city! Nothing is off limits! You want it, Mia make it!" she turned her attention then to Erik, who was still standing in the doorway. "Wine?" she asked.

Erik glanced at Christine, who was now looking in his direction. "That sounds lovely," she whispered, smiling at him. Erik smiled back and nodded his head to Mia.

"I have a very nice house red," she grinned, before shushing Erik away from the door. "Gesepe will come by with your wine, and will take your order. And remember! Nothing off limits," she shook her finger in Erik's face, before exiting the room with a bit of flourish, and hurrying back to the main restaurant, leaving the two of them completely alone.

"I like her!" Christine giggled, after Mia left. Erik smiled back, knowing that Mia liked Christine very much, and was so glad that thus far, the evening was going very well. "This place is so beautiful, how on earth did you know about it?"

Erik chose not to reveal that it was a common place for the Date Phantom and his business. "I stumbled across it one evening, actually," he explained, which wasn't a lie; it was how he had learned about Mia's restaurant. "I always try to keep my eyes open for places like this, those quiet, secret places, that you only hear about through word of mouth."

Christine smiled at that, agreeing with Erik completely. She wondered how many other amazing, secret places he knew?

"Here," Erik quickly stepped forward, remembering one of his basic principles. "May I?" he offered, his hands hovering near her shoulders to take her coat.

Christine blushed, liking how close he was standing to her, and nodded her head. Erik quickly began to remove her coat, however Christine was wearing a bracelet on her left wrist, and it got caught on the inside seam. As Erik began to take her coat away, so went her arm, and she accidentally slapped him at the side of the face.

"Oh gosh!" Christine gasped, her face flooding with horrified color. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" she quickly fidgeted inside her coat sleeve and got the bracelet loose, before fully turning around to see how bad the damage was. It wasn't a hard smack, but it did have some weight to it, and she had felt his mask, just very briefly, against the back of her hand.

"I'm alright, I'm fine," Erik reassured, his jaw throbbing just slightly by the sudden gesture. He knew it was an accident, and he cursed himself for not being more careful; he could have seriously hurt her arm.

"My bracelet got caught on the inseam of my coat," Christine explained, biting her lip as she tried to see if she had left a bruise against his jaw or chin. "I'm really, really sorry."

But Erik wasn't paying attention to her apologies, or his recent smacked face; his eyes were focused on the gorgeous woman who stood before him, in perhaps the most beautiful, jaw-dropping dress he had ever seen.

Erik remembered the night he saw her at The Plaza; she was wearing the classic "little black dress", and he thought she was absolutely stunning. But that dress couldn't hold a candle to the red strapless gown that she wore now. He knew it wasn't polite to stare, but he couldn't stop himself; her shoulders, her breasts, her waist, her hips, her legs…_everything_…she was a goddess.

"Erik?"

He shook his head and immediately brought his eyes back to her face. "I'm alright, truly," he smiled, thankful that his mask concealed his own blush. "Come, let's sit down…" he quickly pulled her chair out, and after she sat down, was very careful at pushing her in. He didn't want to add more disaster with his clumsiness.

"Thank you," Christine murmured as Erik pushed her chair in, smiling as she imagined men of old doing things just like this for ladies.

"You are most welcome…"

Christine trembled as she heard Erik's voice rumble near her right ear. Her eyes fluttered closed at the sound, and when she opened them, she gasped at the sight of the single red rose, which Erik held before her.

"A gift, for you, mademoiselle," he whispered, and Christine thought surely she would melt away right then and there.

"T-t-thank you…" she whispered back, taking the beautiful rose from his fingers, and lifting it to her nose to inhale its sweet fragrance.

Erik smiled, and came around to his side of the table, removing his coat and draping it over the back of his chair, as he sat down and smiled at her, the candlelight reflecting off his mask. Christine smiled back, paying no heed to the mask…in fact, it took little things like the candlelight reflecting off it to remind her that he even wore one. His mask was a part of his face, and it was the image that always came to her mind when she thought of him. She still wondered, now and then, what his face looked like beneath it, but the truth of the matter was she didn't care; mask or not…Erik was quickly turning out to be the man of her dreams.

"Any recommendations?" Christine finally asked, after opening her menu.

Erik grinned, his eyes holding hers in a steady gaze. "I personally enjoy the seafood alfredo."

Christine's toes curled at the sexy smile he was giving her. His eyes were amazing, a shade of golden amber that reminded her of a panther. She wondered if Erik was like a panther in the bedroom…

_Oh God! Get a hold of yourself, Christine! At least attempt to get to know the guy before having sexual fantasies about him!_

Gesepe, their waiter, arrived a minute later with their wine and some breadsticks, promptly took their order, and then disappeared, leaving them both in seclusion once more. Erik poured the wine and then lifted his glass, Christine quickly following suit. "What shall we drink to?" she asked, holding her glass high.

Erik paused, trying to think of some of the toasts he had recommended to his past clients, but none of them were coming to mind. "To tonight," he simply said, hoping that alone would be a worthy toast.

Christine's smile brightened, and a lovely blush illuminated her cheeks. Erik loved the way she blushed…and a part of him began wondering how far her blush stretched…

_Stop it! This is your first date, and you're acting like a horny teenager, get a grip on yourself!_

"To tonight," Christine whispered back, before lifting her glass to her lips and sipping her wine. It was wonderful.

Overhead, they heard soft violin music playing, and Christine lifted her eyes, trying to see where it was coming from. "There's a speaker there, in the corner," Erik explained, pointing to a corner just beyond her left shoulder. "The music is coming from the main restaurant, actually," he continued to explain. "They have a violinist come in every night and play for them."

Christine smiled at the sound and closed her eyes as she listened to the music. Erik watched her and felt his heart beat faster. How on earth could he begin to describe what Christine Davis did to him? The tilt of her head, the brush of her lashes, the movement of her lips…he was falling completely under her spell. "I remember you told me how you liked music…"

Christine opened her eyes and smiled back at him. "Yes, I do," she grinned. "And the violin has always been a favorite instrument of mine, I confess."

Erik was intrigued, and leaned forward, wanting to learn more about her. "Do you play? Or did you play?"

Christine shook her head. "No, but I do love the sound of it," she began giggling softly, and Erik was even more intrigued.

"What?" he asked, her laughter reminding him of music. He yearned to know what it was that made her smile.

"Well," she felt silly, and her cheeks were burning brightly. "I have this um…oh gosh, you'll think this is so stupid—"

"That's impossible," Erik interrupted, his eyes holding hers for a long moment. "Please tell me?"

Christine felt another tremble go through her body, and she smiled at him and continued. "Well…I have this um…well, I call it my 'to do list'," she blushed. "It's a list of things I want to do before I die," she explained, that silly feeling coming back tenfold. How childish did she sound? She looked up at him, half expecting to see him laughing at her, if not looking at her like she was the strangest person on the planet…but instead, he was looking at her with interest, and his smile was tender and full of fascination.

"What's on your list?" he asked, his voice indicating that he truly was interested.

A smile broke across Christine's face, and her confidence began to lift. "Oh gosh, where do I begin?" she giggled. "Um…well, learning to play the violin, obviously. Um…going up in a hot air balloon—that way I can conquer my fear of heights."

"You're afraid of heights?" he asked, intrigued all the more.

"A little, yeah," she admitted. "But I always believed if you do something that requires you to face your fears…you conquer them."

Erik smiled. "Wise words indeed."

Christine smiled back and continued her list. She wanted to travel around the world, to places like Austria, so she could go to the top of a hill and pretend to be Julie Andrews from _The Sound of Music_. She wanted to read Tolstoy's "War and Peace", just to say that she had done it. She wanted to get the courage and go to a midnight showing of _Rocky Horror Picture Show_; the list went on and on. "Gosh, I'm probably sounding like a recluse, like I never do anything," she joked.

Erik said nothing, but he knew he had her beat on the whole "recluse" persona. Actually, if truth were told, he envied Christine a little. There were things she wanted to do but hadn't done, but she sounded quite determined to see them through one day. There were many things he wanted to do as well, but had always assumed he _couldn't_ do them because of his face.

_And one of those things was dating…but here I am._

"Oh, and I want to conquer my fear of singing," she added, drawing Erik away from his thoughts. Now he was very intrigued.

"You have a fear of singing?"

Christine blushed deeply and looked down at the rose in her hands. "Well…singing in public," she explained. "I sing all the time at home, to the radio, to the television, in the shower…"

Erik swallowed at the mention of this.

"But whenever I have an audience, I clam up," she confessed.

Erik couldn't help but smile as she revealed her deep-seeded fear. "Would you sing something for me?"

Christine's eyes widened at the mention of this, and her face immediately began to pale. "S-s-sing? For you?" she began shaking her head even before the words came out. "No, no, I mean, you compose opera! You know how a person should properly sing! My voice would probably sound like nails on a chalkboard—"

"I'll be the judge of that," he playfully grinned, his voice softly urging her.

Christine bit her lip. "It's not the same; I mean, I have a fear of singing with a large audience—"

"Good!" Erik interrupted. "Then singing in front of me shouldn't be too much of a problem."

There was no getting out of this, Christine realized. Meg was really the only person who she sang in front of, and that was normally when they were watching musicals on television. But she couldn't possibly sing in front of him! Dogs would no doubt start howling the second she opened her mouth!

"Christine…"

The way he spoke her name caused goose bumps to rise on her skin.

"Christine, you don't have to," Erik reassured, hoping that he hadn't made her feel uncomfortable. _Always make sure the lady feels comfortable, her needs come before yours, always._ That was an important lesson he taught his clients, and here he was, making her feel nervous over something so trivial. And yet…he longed to hear her voice. He had a feeling that despite her poor confidence when it came to her singing, she really wasn't that bad. In fact, she was probably quite good and just needed some reassurance.

But he wouldn't bully her, and would not allow this incident to set the tone and ruin the whole evening. "Well," he felt the safest thing to do was change the subject. "I confess, some of the things you mentioned have me thinking—"

"Somewhere, over the rainbow…"

Erik stopped talking as his ears were flooded with her soft, quiet, voice.

"Way up high; there's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby…"

Christine's eyes were closed, she couldn't look at him, and she could only imagine how horrible she was sounding. She knew her voice was quiet, she knew she wasn't even trying to sing loudly, but she didn't want other people to start complaining about that horrible caterwauling they were hearing from the private dining room. No doubt he was regretting his asking her to sing now…

"Someday I'll wish upon a star…and wake up where the clouds are far behind me…" she bravely continued, her eyes still tightly closed. "Where troubles melt like lemon drops…away above the chimney tops…that's where you'll find me…"

She heard Erik suck in a breath, probably due to how horribly she sang that high note. _Might as well finish and face the music…ooohh, bad pun._

"Somewhere, over the rainbow…bluebirds fly…birds fly over the rainbow, why, oh why, can't I?"

"BELLA!"

Christine nearly jumped out of her seat, her eyes flying open, her heart in her throat as she whirled her head around to see Gesepe and Mia standing in the doorway, each grinning at her, and Mia clapping very, very loudly. "Bella, my dear, bella!" the small woman cried, her eyes glistening with tears. She had been quite moved by Christine's singing.

Erik had also been startled by Mia's sudden appearance. He had been so lost in the beauty of Christine's voice, that he hadn't even noticed the small woman or their waiter enter the room. Oh God, he prayed that Christine didn't think he had set this up…

"You have SUCH a beautiful voice!" Mia exclaimed, remembering once more that Gesepe had hot food in his hands, and immediately began to place their entrees on the table. "Do you sing professionally?"

Christine was beet red and a part of her wished a black hole would suck her up. "N-no…oh God, no…"

Mia frowned slightly. "The world should hear what a beautiful voice you have, don't you agree Erik?"

He did agree, but he didn't want to embarrass his date any further. "This looks delicious, Mia, thank you very much." He wanted the plump Italian woman to get the point and leave both him and Christine in peace. He wanted to tell Christine himself, without the pressure of an audience, that he truly found her voice breathtaking and beautiful.

"Oh Erik…you should marry this one, she's a diamond!"

Erik had been sipping his wine then, and nearly spit it all over himself at Mia's comment. He began coughing, quite violently, and Mia gasped and rushed over behind him, and began pounding his back, quite hard.

"Careful, my dear! Do not drink so fast!"

Christine's face had darkened at Mia's words, but she looked more concerned at Erik as he was trying to control his coughing while the woman continued to pound his back.

"E-e-e-enough!" Erik nearly roared, although it was more of a choke than anything else. "Thank you, Mia," he managed to get out, his face burning beneath his mask, his eyes unable to meet Christine's in that moment. "I'm fine, truly…and this does look very delicious."

Mia smiled, unaware of the embarrassment she had caused. "Bon Appetito!" she grinned, before grabbing Gesepe by the arm and pulling him out of the dining room, leaving the two of them in peace, once more.

An awkward silence fell over them both, a silence that was probably more awkward than any they had experienced before in each other's company.

"W-w-well," Christine said, trying to break the silence. "This does look delicious, and I am quite hungry," she murmured, digging her fork into the bowl of pasta she had ordered, avoiding eye contact with Erik as much as possible. She couldn't believe she had sung in front of him! She couldn't believe what Mia had said! Oh God, how embarrassing! She knew the plump woman didn't mean any harm, that she was being sweet, but still! Erik was a gentleman, yes, but she doubted he had anything that serious in mind, when it came to dating her…

Erik glanced across the table at Christine, and noticed how her head was practically buried in her bowl. "Christine—"

"Oh my God, this _is_ delicious!" Christine exclaimed, her eyes still avoiding his. "I am so telling my friends at work about this place, in fact, I am so ordering take-out from here in the future!"

Erik smiled at her words, but he was not going to be distracted. "Your voice is exquisite, actually."

Christine fell silent then, her fork pausing in her food. She quickly swallowed the bite that was in her mouth and slowly, began to lift her eyes up to his.

He was smiling at her, but it wasn't a forced smile, it looked quite genuine. And his tone didn't sound as if he were simply saying that to be polite; it too, sounded genuine. "Thank you," she whispered, her face still burning brightly. "It was the first song that popped in my head," she confessed.

Erik's smile didn't fade, and his eyes never left her face. "It was beautiful," he murmured, his sincerity ringing true. "I'm not just saying this, Christine, I mean it; I've studied music for many years, and I've heard many different singers…but your voice is one of the most beautiful I've ever heard."

Christine's blush didn't fade, but her eyes locked with his, and he could see her curiosity in their blue depths. "R-really? I can't believe that, I mean, I'm not professional—"

"No," Erik agreed. "But your tone and pitch are remarkable; they have a soft, bell-like quality, unlike anything I've heard before. And you do yourself wrong for thinking that you sound like nails on a chalkboard," he grinned, hoping she would not feel so self-conscious about her voice. It truly was lovely.

A smile slowly began to spread across Christine's lips, and while her cheeks still remained flush, he could tell that the blush that darkened them was not one of embarrassment, but one of humble appreciation. "Thank you," she whispered, her smile growing with confidence.

"You're very welcome," Erik replied, his eyes never leaving her face, even when she looked away.

* * *

All day long, Erik had been trying to think of things to do after their date ended. As he had told Stephen earlier, he didn't want their date to just simply be dinner, although he was quite glad to see that Mia's restaurant had indeed been a success with Christine. He had hoped, by asking Stephen if he knew anything about her, he would come up with some "after dinner plans".

"_What do I know about Miss Davis?" Stephen returned the question, looking rather surprised by what Erik had asked. Then it dawned upon the accountant. "Oh! Does this evening's date involve Miss Davis?"_

_Erik gritted his teeth just slightly. "You could say that, yes."_

_Stephen looked very intrigued. "Really? Gosh, I wonder if I know the guy who's interested in her?"_

Erik hadn't said anything, although he had been sorely tempted. He didn't like the thought that Stephen assumed it was someone else who was interested in Christine Davis…although he hadn't given Stephen any indication that it was, in fact, himself, who was the interested party.

"_Well…" Stephen sighed, his brow furrowing as if he were being asked a hard question. "I confess, I don't know a lot, I never really spoke with her, other than to ask her how Miss Giry was, and I would not be surprised if she did not even know who I was," he confessed with a sheepish smile. "But…well, what I do know is she's a simple person."_

_Erik's own brow furrowed at this. "Simple?"_

"_Yes," Stephen nodded his head. "Simple, casual, laid back, that sort of thing," he explained. "Unlike Miss Giry, who is normally dressed in the latest fashions," Stephen murmured with a bit of a blush. "Miss Davis is normally seen in a casual business suit, or dress slacks and a dress shirt, nothing too fancy."_

Erik made a mental note, and it greatly helped him when he was trying to decide what to wear for the evening. The black suit with the white pinstripe dress shirt was formal looking, but also casual, and he hoped that it would put Christine at ease and not look overly dressy, or overly laid back. However…she had taken him completely by surprise—a very pleasant surprise—with her choice of dress for the evening.

"_Anything else?" _

"_Hmm," Stephen thought. "Oh! She loves musicals!"_

_Erik found this bit of news interesting. "Musicals? How do you know?"_

_Stephen grinned. "She has this desk calendar, you know, one of those 365 day ones? It has scenes from different movie musicals on it. And she's often heard humming some show tune."_

Erik couldn't help but find that piece of information rather adorable, and tonight, he soon learned of Christine's love for musicals. During dinner, they both launched into a conversation on their favorites: Christine loved _The Sound of Music, Fiddler on a Roof, West Side Story_, and when she was a little girl, she always wanted to be Dorothy in _The Wizard of Oz_. She giggled when he told her he liked _Guys and Dolls, Singing in the Rain_, and that when he was a little boy, his mother took him to a production of _Oliver_ in London's West End, and while walking home, he bragged about wanting to be "the artful Dodger".

But both his conversation with Stephen, and his evening with Christine, reminded him that he had learned only a few days ago that she worked for Meg Giry, at _New York Chique. _

"_Stephen, what does Christine do at the magazine?"_

_Stephen was surprised by Erik's question, but he did remember how Erik had been surprised upon learning when the four of them were out at dinner, that Christine was best friends with Meg, as well as her employee. "She's a writer," he simply said with a shrug of his shoulders. "She writes articles for the magazine, although I don't know much more than that."_

A writer. Erik sometimes picked up copies of women's magazines for research purposes, and _New York Chique_ was the most popular women's lifestyle magazine, but there was columnist, some person who went by the name of "The Happy Single" whose articles he couldn't stand. Did Christine know this person? What did Christine write, exactly? She knew about his career…well, she knew about what he _wanted_ to do with his life, but he knew nothing about hers…

"You know…I never asked you what you studied when you were at Harvard?"

Christine glanced up at him, surprised by the question. After dinner, and much praise and kisses from Mia, Erik suggested that they go for a walk in the restaurant's little neighborhood. Christine liked that idea very much, especially since the neighborhood was dotted with old Victorian houses, small family shops, and the trees were decorated with twinkling, white lights. The wind had died down, and in many ways, it reminded Christine of their walk from earlier in the week. She enjoyed that walk very much, and was looking forward to another.

They were quiet during most of their walk, but the silence was not awkward, not this time. Christine felt very comfortable, actually, and she had her arm snuggly wrapped around Erik's. Was it cold outside? She couldn't tell.

"No, you're right," Christine giggled softly. "I learned all about you and your music, but you were left in the dark." She grinned up at him, and Erik felt his heart beat even faster. "Well, it's only fair, after all," she grinned. "I was an English major, actually. Growing up, I just adored books, and anything that involved reading fiction for a grade, I was all over it."

Erik chuckled at this, and the sound sent a warm vibration from Christine's arm through her entire body. "Any favorites?"

Christine smiled as she reminisced. "I took a course in 19th Century British Literature, and got to read 'Jane Eyre', 'Frankenstein', some Jane Austen, and whole lot of Charles Dickens. I don't think there was one book from that class that I didn't like."

Many of the books she mentioned were favorites of his as well. In fact, one of his favorite activities to do, especially on cold winter nights, was sit in his favorite chair and read; Jonathon always made fun of him for it, calling it dull and boring…but Erik had a feeling that Christine Davis would disagree.

"I did a lot of writing, mainly in journalism," she continued, and Erik's mind was snapped back to the reason as to why he had asked her the question. He was curious to see if she would reveal that she worked for _New York Chique_.

"Really?" he asked. "Do you still write?"

Erik frowned at himself. He didn't like the fact that he was coming across as an interrogation officer, someone fishing for information. Why did he care if she worked for _New York Chique_? It wasn't like she was keeping secrets from him…and besides, he had no right to talk about secret keeping, especially since he was keeping his _actual_ job, a secret.

"I do," Christine admitted, although she began nibbling her lip, just slightly. She highly doubted that Erik picked up _New York Chique_, and she especially doubted that a man like him would spend time reading her articles, but she had to keep her identity as The Happy Single a secret. "I um…" surely there would be no harm in telling him who she worked for? "I write for _New York Chique_, actually," Christine confessed. "That's how I met Meg. Actually, I met Meg in grad school; we shared an apartment together for a year, just before her mother handed over all the rights to the magazine. We've been best friends since."

Erik chose not to press her about what she wrote at the magazine. If she wished to volunteer the information, she would, but he would not interrogate her further on the subject. "Do you enjoy journalism?" he asked.

Christine nodded her head, although it was not enthusiastic, not the way her new intern Laura had nodded. "I do, I mean, writing is a passion of mine, I do love it, I…well, it's just…" her feet had slowed, and Erik's eyes filled with concern as he looked down at her. If he had upset her in anyway, he would never forgive himself.

"_The Wizard of Oz_ isn't just a favorite musical of mine…it's also my favorite book," she explained, lifting her eyes up to his. "And when I was a little girl, I always wanted to write something like that, something that would transport the reader to a far off place, where they would meet memorable and exciting characters, and go on adventures with those characters…" she probably sounded silly, but one look into Erik's eyes, and she could tell he did not find her words silly at all.

"You wanted to write stories? Books?"

Christine nodded her head. "I did…I still do, actually," she confessed. "But I was told, by many people, that if you wanted to be a writer, journalism was the key. And I have learned a lot, and I do enjoy journalism and writing for the magazine, I just…" she sighed and looked up at one of the many trees overhead that was sparkling with lights. "It's just another thing on my 'to do list'," she joked. "Write the 'great American novel'."

Christine felt a squeeze on her hand, and it was then that she realized Erik's hand was tenderly holding hers. A deep blush colored her cheeks, and she softly squeezed his hand back, grateful for the comforting gesture.

They walked on, the conversation turning to favorite books, then favorite hidden New York City gems, such as a café that Erik knew in the Upper West Side, and an old second-hand bookshop that Christine knew in the East Village. They then began to comment on the hold houses that lined the streets around them, pointing out their favorites, things they liked and disliked, from the color, to the trim, to even the front gardens. Christine paused and gazed at one ancient looking house, which badly needed a new paint job and some carpentry work, but which she insisted was the most beautiful one on the street. "I would love to live in a house like that someday," she murmured, and then began to talk about all the things she would want to do to improve and restore it, her eyes never leaving the building…while Erik's eyes never left her face.

She had asked him once, earlier in the evening if he had a "to do list" like her. He chuckled at the question, but now, as he gazed upon her, he knew that the answer was yes, although he had not been aware of those things, until now.

He wanted a woman, like Christine, to be in his life, forever, to wake up every day with her beside him, to feel her body against his as they went to bed each night. He wanted hear her laughter, see her smile, and hold her hand. He wanted to spend his winter nights curled up with her on a couch, each of them reading their favorite books while soft classical or opera music played in the background. He wanted to sit at his grand piano and play show tunes from her favorite musicals, and listen to her sing. He wanted to help her achieve her dream of writing and publishing her stories, while he finally finished his opera. And if he were ever lucky enough, he would want her to marry him…and have children with him. And now, as he gazed at the old Victorian house which didn't look like much at the first glance…he knew he wanted to live in a house, just like that, with Christine by his side.

It was amazing; she found beauty in something that so many people would probably think was past its prime and a hopeless case. Perhaps…perhaps there was hope for him?

They walked on and on for hours. Christine introduced him to a game she remembered playing when she was a teenager at sleepovers called "20 Questions". They both laughed as they answered each other's questions, from their favorite cartoon shows when they were kids, to most embarrassing school moments when they were teenagers. They learned more and more about each other, and Erik felt such ease, such peace, such bliss, while in Christine's company.

Christine couldn't remember a time when she had talked so much about so many different topics, but she never tired of the conversation, she loved listening to Erik, hearing his stories, and learning all about him. And Erik was so attentive; sometimes Christine would shiver, and he would immediately ask if she were feeling cold, but his arm always tightened around her own, and warmth would once more envelope her. She didn't feel tired, she really didn't feel cold, and she truly felt that she could continue walking and talking with him for hours on end, for the entire night, even…

And then Christine noticed something…

The sky was beginning to lighten, just slightly.

Erik noticed this to, and looked at his watch, his eyes widening at the realization. "It's five in the morning…"

Christine's eyes widened at his words. "What? It can't be! It doesn't feel that late, I mean…we couldn't have…we didn't…surely we would have noticed…"

But she saw his watch, and then quickly dug her cell phone out of her purse and looked at its clock and sure enough, it was 5am. "Oh gosh," she gasped, blushing and grinning as the realization washed over her. "I can't believe we've been out, all night!"

Erik couldn't believe it either. The time had just gone so quickly! _No, time just stood still for both Christine and myself_, he thought. He glanced at her and found her smiling up at him. Did she feel the same way? Lord, he hoped so…

They found a cab and drove to a small bagel shop that Christine knew, near her apartment. They both ate bagels and drank coffee, laughing about how clueless they had been about the late hours that were passing them by. After they were finished, Erik walked Christine back to her building, and the nervous tension that had taken hold of them earlier, when their date began…now came back with full force.

"So…"

"Well…"

They both glanced at each other, and then quickly looked away. Erik couldn't believe how foolish he was acting; was this how all his clients behaved when they were on their first dates? Did Stephen behave like this?

"I apologize for keeping you out very late…" he began, feeling he needed to say something.

Christine's eyes widened and she began to furiously shake her head. "Oh no! No, I enjoyed the walk very much, please don't apologize."

Erik smiled, glad she had enjoyed it, for he enjoyed it very much too. He didn't want to say goodbye, he felt he could stay up even later and continue to talk to her, but he knew that they both needed rest, and one of the cardinal rules that he always taught was to never push the lady into feeling guilt, pressure, or anything negative. Tonight they had learned a great deal, and Erik already had several ideas for future dates.

Future dates.

"Christine," he began, calling upon his courage, especially as her building came in sight. "I enjoyed tonight…" he glanced down at her and saw her large, blue eyes, gazing up at him. "Very much, actually," he continued.

Christine was holding her breath; was he going to ask her out again? She loved their date, and if asked her, she would be more than happy to go out with him again, that very evening.

"Would you mind if I called you on Monday? And we plan another date later in the week?"

Christine felt her insides melt. It wasn't a date for that very evening, but it was the promise of another date, and she had a feeling that when Erik promised to call a woman, he kept it. "Yes, please," she practically purred, and then coughed as if she were clearing her throat, embarrassed by how that had come out. "I um…yes, please, I would like that very much…" _My God, could I have sounded more desperate?_

Erik let out a sigh of relief, and smiled down at Christine. He pulled out a pen and a slip of paper from his inside coat pocket, and Christine gave him her phone number…in fact, she gave him three phone numbers: her work number, her apartment phone number, and her cell phone number. Inside, she was shouting at herself for coming across so desperate, but Erik shushed that voice with one of his gorgeous gentleman smiles. Who cares if she was coming off as desperate? This was Erik Henri, tall, dark, and sexy masked man who wanted to go out with _her!_

But all thoughts ceased the second she realized they were standing in front of her building. This was the moment they both had been waiting…and dreading, for.

The goodbye moment, the moment where Erik found himself in Hamlet's shoes: to kiss, or not to kiss?

Erik had always taught his clients that a first kiss should wait until the third date; by then, she would feel comfortable, relaxed, and possibly eager, to experience that kiss. She would know by that point that the man she was with was a gentleman, a man who put her needs before his, a man who resembled her fairy tale prince. All these lessons told Erik that he shouldn't kiss her, that he should do exactly what Stephen did: bow before her, kiss her hand, squeeze it gently, and hold her gaze as he backed away from her slowly.

But every fiber in his being was telling him to take her into his arms, hold her close and tight, tilt her beautiful face up with gentle fingers, savor the soft, wonderful feel of her cheek against his fingertips, and touch his lips to hers and taste her mouth with all the passion she inspired within him.

This was one moment where he really hated being a gentleman…

"Thank you for joining me this evening, Christine," he whispered, fully facing her, the two of them only standing a few inches apart. Christine was staring up at him, her eyes moving back and forth from his eyes to his lips. Erik felt his throat go dry and his body harden at the beautiful way she moistened her lips. With some agony, he took a step back. "Thank you for sharing with me the pleasure of your company," he murmured, taking her hand in his and lifting it to his lips, his eyes never once leaving hers, as he brushed his lips across the surface of her hand.

Christine thought she would die. A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt Erik's mouth touch her hand, just as he had done a few nights ago, and she wished more than anything that she could be her hand at that moment.

"You…you are most welcome, Erik," she managed to whisper, her eyes holding his as he carefully took another step back. He wasn't going to kiss her, she realized. He was too much of a gentleman, he was going to make her wait for that first kiss, and she wasn't sure she could stand it.

With longing eyes, she watched him back away from her, slowly, his eyes never once leaving hers, time, once more, standing still all around them…

And then he tripped backwards over his own feet.

Erik let out a curse as he fell, landing rather hard on his tailbone. Christine gasped and rushed over to his side, her eyes wide with concern as she kneeled down beside him. "Oh God, are you all right?" she asked, wincing as he groaned in pain. The fall looked painful, and she knew it was a stupid question to ask. "Oh Erik, come inside, I can get you some ice or something, I—"

"I'm alright, truly," he grumbled, his pride hurt more than anything else, really. "Thank you, though," he murmured, smiling at her as she insisted on helping him up. His own rule for saying goodbye, and he had screwed it up.

"Are you sure?" Christine asked, still concerned for him, her hands wrapping around his right arm as she began to help him up. "It's no trouble, I mean—ouch!"

"Ow!"

They both smacked heads together as they were trying to stand, and Erik inwardly swore at himself for turning what was supposed to be a romantic goodbye, into a clumsy, disastrous circus.

"Christine, I'm so sorry," he groaned, rubbing the painful spot on his own head. "That was my fault, I apologize, are you alright?" he turned to look at her, concern in his eyes. "Are you—" he paused and stared at her with utter fascination.

She was laughing?

Christine was rubbing her head, and trying to conceal her giggles behind one of her hands, but couldn't hold back and let out a loud, long laugh. Erik couldn't believe it…and soon found himself joining in her laughter.

"Look at us," she managed to get out between giggles. "One would think we were in a screwball comedy," she laughed.

Erik grinned at her words. "Does that make me Cary Grant to your Katharine Hepburn?"

Christine laughed even more, and the two of them shared in each other's laughter…until they slowly began to realize that they were also leaning against one another.

Christine could feel the strong muscles of Erik's chest, and Erik could feel how right her smaller frame fit against his. The top of her head tickled his chin, and he looked down at her, and she up at him, and they both held their breath for a long time.

And then, without warning, Christine leaned up on the tips of her toes…and kissed his masked cheek.

Erik froze as he felt her lips touch his mask. She must have forgotten that he wore it, although how she could forget something like that, he wasn't sure…yet, when he was in her presence, he often forgot it. But kissing it now, must have been a cruel reminder that he wore it, and no doubt she would look and perhaps feel, disgusted for even touching it.

But she didn't. Erik gazed down at her, and she was smiling up at him, a tender, caring smile, one that made his heart believe in miracles, or at least in the miracle that perhaps…she could love him.

"Goodnight, Erik," she whispered, rising up once more and kissing his other masked cheek. "Or, I should probably say, good morning."

Erik watched in stunned silence as she slowly walked away from him, and disappeared through the door to her apartment building, giving him one last smile, before disappearing from sight.

He touched his left cheek, and then his right. _Amazing_. The place where her lips had touched his mask actually felt _warm_.

A light came on in a window on the fifth floor. Erik looked up and saw her silhouette through the blinds, and let out a long, shaky breath; he had been holding his breath ever since she had kissed his cheeks.

With reluctance, he turned away from the building, and began to walk down the street as the sun slowly began to rise over the trees and rooftops of New York. His walk began to quicken, and before he knew it, he was running, his feet flying beneath him, his lungs filling up with air as he breathed in the morning, and his heart beating faster and faster as he quickened the pace, sprinting down the empty, cold street.

Without any warning, Erik threw back his head and let out a loud shout, feeling like a boy who had just received his first kiss, who had just discovered what love was…

For Erik Henri, the mysterious "Date Phantom"…in many ways, it was just that.


	14. Dinner Preparations

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE: _**Hello everyone! As I mentioned in my last chapter to "Tapestry", things have been extremely hectic for me as of late, which unfortunately have caused me to put my writing on the back burner. But with Easter past, and spring coming (that is if this strange, mid-April Artic blast ever lifts) I hope to get some more chapters up in the next few weeks. Fanfic seems to be having issues with uploading chapters, but Waytoointoerik was a big help for me in getting this finally posted, so I do hope you enjoy! Thanks for all of you who have been sticking around and who have been such a strong network of support. I truly appreciate all of you and your words. Thanks and enjoy! **Lady Rosesong

* * *

**

**Summary: **Plans are being made for the next upcoming date...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Dinner Preparations_**

On Monday, Christine practically floated into the office, and spent the whole day humming various songs from her favorite Broadway musicals. Brian took notice immediately, but surprisingly chose to keep his comments to himself; he knew that Christine had gone out on a date over the weekend, a date with the mysterious "coat guy", and while he did have fun teasing her about it last week…he chose to keep his jokes to himself this time. Christine deserved happiness, and he could tell by the way she was behaving, that the date had gone well. He hoped that whoever this "coat guy" was, he would continue to make Christine as happy as she appeared now.

Christine wasn't the only person who seemed to be humming happily. Brian also noticed a change in Meg, the few times he saw her walk about the main office. Meg, who normally kept herself locked away in her own office, if not in the boardroom studying the upcoming issues of _New York Chique_, was also walking around with a dreamy expression on her face.

Well, maybe walking wasn't the correct term; in truth, Meg was gracefully moving about the office, as if she were a ballerina, dancing from one desk to another. Brian couldn't understand it; what was going on with the women of this place?

Even Laura, the new intern who seemed to worship the ground Christine walked on, had a dreamy smile plastered on her pretty freckled face.

"Miss Davis?"

Christine glanced up from her computer screen and silenced her humming. "Oh, Laura, you have those files I asked you to pull from the archives?"

Laura grinned and handed the folders she was holding over to Christine. "And I ran across the street to get you those men's magazines that I remember you telling me about, in how you wish to use some info from them for your next article."

Christine smiled and happily took the magazines from the redhead's hands. "Thanks Laura, you're a big help."

The girl grinned, but instead of turning to leave and go about her next task, she looked over her shoulders, as if inspecting to see if anyone was nearby, before leaning down to speak to Christine in a hushed voice. "Miss Davis? I…I um…I know this is going to sound silly, and…well, if I am sounding silly, just tell me and I will leave you alone, I know that it's Thanksgiving week and you probably have a ton—"

"Laura," Christine interrupted, lifting her eyes from the computer screen and focusing in on the babbling redhead. "Why don't you just tell me what's on your mind?"

Laura smiled sheepishly, and then looked over her shoulder again, this time focusing mainly on Brian's cubicle, before turning her attention back to Christine. "As you know, I value your opinion greatly, I mean, your articles helped me after a really bad break-up that I had during my sophomore year—"

"Laura…"

Laura blushed, knowing that she was babbling and just got right to the point. "I met a man over the weekend," she whispered, in a slightly dreamy…as well as somewhat guilty tone.

Christine blinked several seconds. "Well…I'm happy to hear that…?" she whispered back, although slightly confused by why Laura was seeing this meeting as a dilemma.

"No, you don't understand," Laura explained, her voice even softer than before. "I'm new to New York and the whole ' New York experience,' and…it's been a long time since I had any sort of relationship with a man other than platonic friendship, and…I mean, what would your advice be?"

Now it all made sense. Laura, who admired Christine and her writing, wanted dating advice, of all things, from The Happy Single, herself. Christine felt the corners of her mouth lift just slightly, finding humor in the situation. Several weeks ago, if Laura had come to her with this "dilemma", she would have told the young woman to not even think about meeting this man, at least not until she had done her research on him and learned that he didn't have a wife, kids, or mistress stashed away someplace. But ever since Christine met Erik…the cynicism she used to hold towards the other half of the human race…had lifted, somewhat. Christine wouldn't say she trusted all men, but…Erik was proving to her that there were gentlemen still left in the world, and Stephen Dulane, according to what Meg had said, was also proving that one shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

"Miss Davis?" Laura was biting her lip in anticipation to Christine's answer.

Christine shook her head and returned her focus to the young intern. "May I ask where you met him?"

Laura blushed, but smiled. "I was getting Chinese take-out from a restaurant near my apartment building. He was waiting for his own order, and while we stood there, waiting for our orders to come up, we began talking…and, it was really nice, I confess," she giggled. "He told me how Chinese food always hits the spot on a cold, rainy night, how it's the body's comfort food for such nights, which I actually agree with…" she blushed and giggled again. "Anyway, it was pouring outside by the time my order came up, and he offered to get me a cab, but I told him I was only a short walking distance away, that it wasn't necessary…and then," she paused to sigh dreamily. "Then he gave me his umbrella and told me to keep it."

Christine smiled softly at Laura's tale, although the cynic in her was not completely satisfied, at least not entirely. She was trying to look at men and dating in a new light, but the cynic in her had been with her for five long years; it was hard to just turn a new leaf with the snap of one's fingers. "Did you exchange numbers? Did he watch you while you walked away to see where you went?"

Laura shook her head. "No, he got into a cab and went away in the opposite direction right after he gave me his umbrella. And as for the numbers…we didn't exchange them. But he told me how he comes to that restaurant every Monday night to have dinner, and…invited me to join him, if I was free."

_Hmmm, well, he is at least giving her the opportunity to choose whether or not to join him. And he's not overstepping the comfort boundaries, not like that guy from the department store,_ Christine thought to herself. _It is possible that he's another lost gentleman, like Erik… _

"I don't think there is any harm in meeting him at the restaurant and having dinner…but I would advise that you don't take it further from that, at least not tonight." Christine frowned inwardly at herself, just slightly. _Lord, I sound like my mother… _

But Laura was smiling and nodding her head, happily. "Oh, thank you Miss Davis, I mean, I felt the same way, that since I was meeting him there, I would have some control over the situation, that he wasn't trying to…well…you know," she blushed and giggled. "I mean, we can't always suspect the worst of men just because a few have hurt us in the past, can we?"

It wasn't a question meant to be answered, Christine knew that much. Laura practically skipped away, looking happy and content with the advice she had been given. And Christine knew that Laura was also right; yes, she had some nasty boyfriends in the past, and some horrible dates…but so far, Erik proved to be none of those things, and she really, _really_ liked him.

"I wonder if its possible that Laura requested this job, simply so she could be near you when she wanted advice, as opposed to writing an editorial and hoping that we will recognize it and have it published in the next issue?"

Christine glared up at Brian, who was leaning against his cubicle with a teasing grin. "Leave her alone, she's young and new and doesn't understand your sort of teasing. She'll think your serious, and then think that you hate her, and next thing I know, she'll be running to me, crying, thinking that I hate her."

Brian laughed. "Give the girl a little credit, Chris…and give me some too, for that matter," he hovered near her cubicle and began whispering. "And tell me about how your date with the Phantom Coat Guy went."

Christine blushed deeply and turned her desk chair away. "That's none of your business, and you know it."

Brian ignored her words. "I know that it went well, you've been humming all day," he teased. "So when's your second date?"

Christine's cheeks felt hot to the touch. She remembered that at the conclusion to their date, Erik had asked if he could call her early in the week to plan a second date. "Early in the week" was a very broad term; it could basically mean any day prior to Wednesday…although he could be one of those people who counted the middle day as a part of the early week.

Some may even say that "early in the week" was an excellent excuse for not even promising to call. But Christine, even the cynical side of her, didn't believe that. Erik had been the perfect gentleman throughout their entire date, and Christine couldn't help but believe that he enjoyed her company just as much as she enjoyed his. _He meant what he said, you're just being over anxious. Give the guy some space; you don't want to scare him away… _

Christine opened her mouth to say something cutting, but all manner of speech escaped when her phone began ringing.

It was him. Something deep inside told her that it was Erik.

"Well?" Brian asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to answer it?"

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded her head. With shaky fingers, she reached for the receiver and picked it up, before taking in a deep breath and lifting the phone to her ear. "Christine Davis' desk…"

Brian grinned and took a few steps back, allowing Christine some privacy as she answered the phone. He had a good idea as to who it was…

"Hello Christine," Erik's voice filled her ear, and Christine was sure she was going to melt away into a small puddle at the silky way he spoke her name. "I hope I am not disturbing you?"

"No!" Christine practically squeaked, before rolling her eyes heavenward. She had turned her chair away from where Brian had been standing. No doubt he was snickering at her behavior. "No, no, this is perfectly fine," Christine managed to say in a slightly more normal tone of voice.

"I'm glad," Erik murmured, and Christine felt her toes curl. "I wanted to tell you again how much I enjoyed Saturday…"

A huge smile spread across Christine's face. "Me too," she murmured back. Oh God, she was falling hard…

"I apologize that I didn't get these to you earlier, that they weren't there when you arrived this morning."

Christine's brow furrowed. "Didn't get 'these'? I don't understand…"

"Christine?"

Christine turned her head to see Karen, the office receptionist, standing in front of her cubicle, holding a crystal vase filled with yellow roses. "These just arrived for you," Karen explained, before placing the vase down on one of the few blank spots on Christine's desk.

"I remember how you told me you love yellow roses," Erik murmured into her ear. "I hope they will do."

Christine was flabbergasted. She honestly could not recall the last time a man sent her flowers. "I…how…how did you…?"

Erik chuckled. "I asked the florist to call me the second he delivered the flowers to your office. As I said, I wish they could have been there when you arrived at work, but the florist didn't open until after 9am, and I wanted to make sure you received the very best."

Christine's eyes went wide. "Wait…are you…are you saying that _you_ picked these out? That _you_ went to the florist and chose the roses?"

Christine swore she heard the sound of feet shuffling…nervously? No, Erik didn't get nervous, Erik always seemed so calm and collected and…

Did she make him nervous? In the same way he made her nervous? She couldn't help but smile just slightly at this. She wanted him to like her…she hoped he did.

"Yes, I um…well, sometimes flower shops get orders mixed up, and I…I just wanted to make sure that you got the very best…" he reasoned, his silky deep voice sounding slightly higher than normal. Christine simply grinned.

"They are beautiful," she reassured. "Thank you very much."

She swore she could feel Erik smiling on the other end of the phone. "You are very welcome. And I wonder if you would do me the honor of joining me for dinner this week?"

Christine bit her lip to keep from screaming with joy. There it was! The second date! "I would love that," she murmured with all sincerity. "Did you have a certain day in mind?"

She swore she could feel Erik smiling earlier; this time she knew it. "Well, if I may be so bold as to ask…do you have plans for Thanksgiving?"

Christine's toes curled at the suggestion. She normally spent Thanksgiving with Brian and his family. She also went out of her way to somehow help Meg feel included, even if it meant going to her apartment and inviting herself inside. But Meg, she knew, had been invited to spend Thanksgiving with Stephen…and Susan, Brian's wife, was expecting a baby, and she didn't wish to make the poor woman work even harder. It all sounded so perfect…

"I do not," Christine grinned, her fingers curling around the telephone wire as she waited for Erik to say the words.

"Well…would you do me the honor of having Thanksgiving dinner with me?"

YES! Christine felt like hopping up and down, but took and deep breath and kept herself under control. "I would love to. May I ask where we will be having this meal?"

There was another pause, and once more, she could hear the sound of shuffling feet. "Well…I um…" Erik cleared his throat and Christine nibbled on her bottom lip as she awaited his answer. "That is…well…I understand if you mind, of course…but…um…I was thinking…my place?"

His voice sounded so soft then that Christine barely recognized him. She grinned and felt her own cheeks turn scarlet. "At your place?"

"Well…I…that is…well, yes, but as I said, I completely understand if you are not comfortable…not that I'm saying you should feel uncomfortable, because I would never…I mean, what I'm trying to say is—"

"I would love to," Christine whispered, rescuing him from the hole he had dug for himself.

There was another pause, and Christine held her breath, wondering what he was thinking, let alone trying to envision how he looked. "Wonderful," he murmured, a sigh of relief filling the phone line. "Wonderful," he repeated, sounding more confident and relaxed. "How does 4:00 sound?"

Christine loved the way that sounded. "Wonderful," she murmured, mimicking the same happy tone he had.

"Good," Erik murmured. "I'll have a cab pick you up at… 3:30?"

"Perfect," Christine grinned.

"Yes," Erik whispered, and Christine bit her lip to keep from moaning in pleasure at the way he spoke. "I look forward to seeing you again, Christine."

"Me too," Christine whispered back, before murmuring her goodbye and hanging up. She felt as if she were floating…floating on a cloud high above the heavens. It wasn't until she turned her desk chair back around and saw Brian hovering nearby that she was jolted back to earth.

"Don't worry," he grinned at her. "I'll be sure to tell Susan that you have other plans for Thanksgiving."

* * *

Erik gazed at the cell phone he held in his hands for several minutes, still surprised by everything that had transpired. It wasn't that he doubted Christine would wish to go out with him again—he did feel fairly positive that she enjoyed his company just as much as he enjoyed hers. It was the fact that even after he behaved like a fool on the phone, that she still agreed to spend Thanksgiving dinner in his company, amazed him.

"Erik?"

Erik was jolted back to reality at the sound of Stephen's nervous voice. He quickly stuffed the phone into his trouser pocket and turned to face the worried accountant.

"Sorry, I…I didn't mean to disturb you while you were on the phone—"

"It's alright, Stephen," Erik smiled, trying to once more put his focus back on his client. "I was just…talking with another client," he lied. "All is well, though," he turned the focus entirely on Stephen then, folding his arms across his chest. "How does the turkey look?"

Stephen bit his lip and glanced nervously over his shoulder into the tiny kitchen that his small apartment held. "I squirted some juice on it, like you said, but…how long does it take?"

Erik moved past Stephen to examine the kitchen and frowned just slightly at the giant mess the two of them had created. Stephen chose to take the entire week off, just so that he could spend his time learning how to cook. Erik had promised to spend several hours, every day leading up to Thanksgiving, to help his friend conquer his kitchen phobia.

It turned out that Erik had greatly misjudged Stephen; at least he had misjudged Stephen's cooking abilities. Erik was sure Stephen knew how to cook a few things, the very basics at least. But it turned out that Stephen was completely clueless when it came to the kitchen—the man wasn't even sure how the oven, let alone the stovetop, worked. Upon arriving, Erik threw off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and got to the task of teaching Stephen how all the kitchen appliances worked, before going about the task of trying to cook something.

Stephen was a nervous wreak; the confidence he had gained since his date with Meg had disappeared. He was convinced that he would never grasp the art of cooking, that he would ruin the dinner, no matter how carefully Erik showed him what to do, and that Meg would become ill and never speak to him again. It took a great deal of patience from Erik, both with convincing Stephen that he could learn this, and to not yell when Stephen did do something wrong, such as mistake the sugar with salt.

"The turkey looks fine," Erik murmured, as he peered into the oven. "And as for your green beans," he gently lifted the lid off the stove pot that the green beans were simmering in, "they appear to be cooking just nicely, as well."

Stephen swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. "That may be, but that's because you were here to help me. I mean…on Thursday, I'll have to do all of this on my own!"

"And that's why I'm here, helping you on a Monday, so that when Thursday does come, you'll feel confident and ready to serve her a five-star meal."

Stephen sighed, knowing that Erik was trying to help him relax and bring back some of the confidence he had once felt. If he didn't believe in himself, in the possibility that he could learn in time, and create a wonderful meal for himself and Meg, then it _would_ fail. _Remember the basic principles…confidence is key!_

"Alright," Erik murmured, looking around the messy kitchen. "I think we should move on to the mashed potatoes…"

Stephen mutely nodded his head as Erik brought over the bowl of potatoes that they had spent all morning peeling. He watched as Erik demonstrated how to use the potato masher, and then with slightly shaky hands, took the masher from him, and took over the task. "You may need to put a little more muscle into it," Erik instructed.

Stephen nodded his head and applied more pressure to the masher, glancing up at Erik as he did so. "What are you going to do for Thanksgiving?"

Erik was grateful for the mask that covered his entire face, otherwise Stephen would see the blush that stained his cheeks. "I normally try to spend it alone," he truthfully confessed. "But I have some friends who make that very difficult for me." Wendy always insisted that Erik join her and Jonathon for the holidays, whenever possible. Erik was normally reluctant because Wendy, who loved to play hostess, would also invite other people to her parties. Erik was familiar with some of the people, and they knew better than to stare or even bring up the subject of his mask in conversation. But sometimes, there would be a few idiots, who would not drop the subject. Erik remembered one Christmas when one of Jonathon's coworkers became very drunk, and actually tried to remove the mask! Jonathon hauled the guy away from Erik, before he had the opportunity to pummel the drunk.

Yes, when it came to the holidays, Erik normally sought the familiar comfort of solitude, although he could not deny that it did get lonely. Yet this year, it would be different. This year, he was actually looking forward to Thanksgiving!

_Although I should be petrified!_

Christine was not simply spending the holiday with him…she was going to be spending it with him in his apartment! _Oh God almighty, she is going to be there, with me,_ alone_, and only few feet away from my bedroom… _

It was going to be a daunting day.

* * *

Christine didn't even have a chance to make it to her own apartment when she received Meg's frantic call. Her friend demanded her immediate help and begged her to come, at once, to her Central Park West residence. Christine didn't even have the opportunity to knock on Meg's door after she had been buzzed into the building. With her fist lifted halfway to the door's surface, Meg threw the door open and grabbed Christine's hand, pulling her inside. "Thank God you're here! I need your help, desperately!"

Christine nearly stumbled forward. "Not another fashion show, I hope?"

Meg glared at her while shutting the door. "No, this is ten times worse!"

Before Christine could even ask what was ten times worse, her eyes took in the messy sight of the apartment's kitchen. There was flour everywhere, on the floor, on the counter, even on the walls! She saw milk, sugar, eggs, and other baking ingredients, strewn across the countertop, some dripping down onto the floury floor. There was also a terrible stench coming from the oven, and Christine realized that a fan was on, trying blow smoke away from the kitchen. "Good God, Meg! What did you do?"

Meg rolled her eyes heavenward and let out a pitiful sigh. "I'm trying to bake a pie!"

Christine's eyebrows rose in confusion. "A pie? Why are you—"

"For Thanksgiving!" Meg cried, trying to push several strands of flour covered hair away from her face. "Remember how I told you Stephen was inviting me to spend Thanksgiving with him?"

Christine nodded her head, listening to her friend while trying to get a sponge to mop up some of the mess.

"Well, he called me this evening, just after I got home…and told me that _he_ is going to be making the dinner!"

Christine paused. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the distress on her friend's face. "Is that…bad?"

"YES!" Meg nearly shouted. "It means that he can cook! It means that he's putting more effort into this date than I had originally thought!" she collapsed into a nearby chair and began pouting. "None of my past boyfriends could cook to save their lives."

Christine bit her lip, but couldn't help but grin. "Do you realize what you just said?"

Meg's eyes narrowed. "What!?"

Christine grinned. "You said 'none of your past boyfriends could cook'…meaning, that you think of Stephen as a boyfriend."

Meg's face turned ten different shades of red. She opened her mouth as if to protest, and then closed it, turning an even darker shade of red, before fidgeting in her seat. "I…I…well…well so what!?" Meg burst to her feet and began pacing the messy kitchen. "He's a nice guy, a gentleman in fact! I know we've only had one date, but I can't remember the last time I was treated with such…such…"

"Respect? Care? Thoughtfulness?"

Meg nodded her head, her eyes focusing on Christine. "How did you know?"

Christine began blushing now. "Because…that's exactly how I felt, after my date with Erik."

A huge smile filled Meg's pretty face, and took Christine's hands in hers. "Chris, I think it may be possible that we've nabbed the last two true gentlemen in all of New York City."

Christine blushed, but joined her friend in giggling. "So, what is _really_ the problem?"

Meg groaned and folded her arms. "It's just like I said; Stephen is going to all this trouble to make dinner for me, and…and…well, I have to do something! I don't want him to think that I'm a complete idiot in the kitchen!"

"Idiot is too strong a word," Christine teased. "Ignorance is about right."

Meg glared at her. "I told Stephen that I would bring dessert, that I would make a pie and bring it to dinner."

Christine nodded her head, it all making sense now. "And you have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

Meg threw her arms up into the air. "I've never cooked before, Chris! I always have my meals catered, or receive them pre-cooked. I can't even tell the difference between sugar and salt. I keep getting the two mixed up!" she groaned and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. "I've never attempted to make a pie before…" her eyes focused on something just behind Christine, and Christine turned, nearly jumping out of her shoes at the ghastly sight before her.

"Is…is that…?"

Meg nodded her head. "It wasn't like I didn't follow the instructions in the cookbook! I did everything they said…"

Christine didn't dare touch the burnt object that was meant to be a pie. "What…kind is it?"

"Pumpkin," Meg grumbled. "The 'traditional' Thanksgiving dessert."

Christine turned her head away; the smell of the burnt pumpkin was almost too much. "Well, I am proud of you Meg, for at least trying without any help."

"But that's why I need you, Chris! You're a midwestern farm girl, you surely know how to make—"

"First off, I've never made pumpkin pie before. We always had apple. Second…it's been years since I made a pie! I don't even know if I remember how to make the crust—"

"Oh it will be simple," Meg interrupted, grabbing an apron and thrusting it into Christine's arms. "You just follow the recipe, and show me what to do!"

This had disaster written all over it…if it was possible to create more disaster. With a groan, Christine pulled off her coat and put on the apron that Meg had thrust into her arms. Thank heaven Meg at least had a cookbook. As she began separating the different ingredients into a bowl, Meg watched her with deep interest. "So…Brian told me you received a phone call today…?"

Christine nearly lost her grip on the measuring cup she was holding. _Brian, I swear, next time I get my hands on you… _

"It _was_ him, wasn't it?" Meg giggled, leaning in close to see Christine's reaction. The blush confirmed her question. Meg had called Christine around 1am on Sunday, and was shocked to realize that Christine wasn't there. She called again, every hour on the hour after that, still shocked that Christine wasn't answering. It wasn't until 7am that Meg finally received an answer. Despite the fact that she was exhausted, she squealed when Christine answered the phone and demanded that she tell her everything that had happened. Meg thought it was absolutely romantic that her friend had spent the whole night with the masked man, just walking and talking and not even noticing the passing of time. Christine deserved happiness; Christine deserved romance, and Meg was ecstatic that she was getting both after so many years of heartache. "So?" Meg grinned, trying to catch Christine's eyes, which were purposefully looking away from her. "What are you guys going to do? What plans have you made for your next date?"

Christine was beet red, but despite the glares she sent in Meg's direction, she couldn't help but smile. "He invited me to spend Thanksgiving with him," Christine softly murmured, to which Meg gave an exuberant squeal.

"Oh my God! Just like Stephen and me! Oh Chris, will it just be the two of you? OH! Is it going to be at _his_ place!?"

The blush was spreading down Christine's neck, and she remembered the sexy, and slightly nervous way, Erik had invited her to his home for Thanksgiving dinner. Ever since the invitation, a million thoughts…and fantasies, were spreading through Christine's mind. _Maybe we'll kiss this time? Oh God, maybe we'll start kissing…and then…then… _

"You better bring protection, just in case."

Christine was jolted by Meg's matter-of-fact sentence, and blushed even more. "I don't think anything is going to happen," she muttered under her breath. _Unfortunately._ "Erik is a perfect gentleman; I don't think he is going to…try…anything, especially not on Thanksgiving."

Meg's brow furrowed. "Why? People have sex all the time, even on Thanksgiving."

Christine glared at her friend. "Are you going to have sex with Stephen on Thanksgiving?"

It was Meg's turn to change color, but much to Christine's surprise, the petite woman grinned mischievously. "We'll see…"

Christine grumbled something under her breath and went back to work on trying to salvage Meg's pie. Yet no matter how hard she concentrated, all she could think about was being alone with Erik, alone in his apartment, wherever that was. She honestly could not imagine him overstepping his boundaries…even if she allowed him to. _Oh God, this is going to be pure torture! He's going to sit there, carve the turkey, talk about wonderful, sophisticated, intellectual things…and I'm going to be drooling like a dog._

For the first time since she had met Erik, Christine was looking forward…and dreading, her upcoming date.


	15. Thanksgiving

**Summary: **We gather together...with Meg & Stephen and Erik & Christine for an unforgetable day...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Thanksgiving_**

After her trip to Meg's apartment, and after two more attempts at making pumpkin pie, Christine had gone home, smelling like flour, canned pumpkin, and burnt smoke. After a quick shower, she crawled into bed where she fidgeted the whole night.

When she closed her eyes and began drifting off to sleep, her dreams were instantly filled with a tall, muscular masked man, who wore a swirling cape, and swept her off her feet, seducing her with his song of promised passion! Moments later, she would wake up, the sheets clinging to her sweaty body, and her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. She didn't get much sleep that night, and it showed when she arrived at work the next day.

But if Christine had known then, what she knew now, she would have made an excuse and skipped work that day, because Tuesday was the day that "the cold" started.

Laura, who was ecstatic about her dinner date with the man from the Chinese restaurant, ran to Christine's desk the moment she came into work and began telling her all the details about the conversation the two of them had had, and his gentlemanly manner, and even how he had walked her home, and waited until she was safely inside, before turning to leave. She also explained how the two of them had exchanged phone numbers, and that he was going to give her a call after the Thanksgiving holiday to make plans for their next date. She told all this to Christine…despite her constant sneezes.

It seemed that since that first night Laura had gone to the Chinese restaurant, she had caught a bit of a cold while coming home in the rain. She had been sniffling all day on Monday, and her throat had a tickle as well. After her dinner date, the cold began to grow worse and worse. She was sneezing the whole night, and by morning, she was all stuffed up. Christine tried to convince the pretty intern to go home and take the rest of the day off, but Laura kindly refused. "Tomorrow is only a half day of work, and we get Thursday and Friday off. Besides, if I was a true employee of such a prestigious magazine, I would be expected to work, cold or no." She ended her words with another loud sneeze, and wandered away, sniffling, but smiling.

Well, the cold seemed to have become a curse, at least for Christine. As the day passed, her own throat began to tickle, and later that evening, after she had gone home, her own nose began to feel congested. Once again, she found it difficult to sleep; only she wished it were because of her erotic dreams from the previous night. Throughout the whole evening, she kept coughing and sneezing, and by the time morning rolled around, Christine knew that she had caught Laura's cold.

Because it was only a half-day of work, Christine reluctantly went in. But the second Meg saw her, she immediately ordered Christine to go home. "No offense Chris, but I don't want you infecting me…or any one else right before the Thanksgiving holiday."

Christine grumbled and blew her nose, although she didn't argue. She was feeling more and more miserable as the hours passed.

Meg attempted to cheer her friend up. "You should go home and get some rest anyway. Tomorrow is a big day!"

Tomorrow. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and Christine only prayed that by tomorrow, she would be feeling ten times better. But even after she had gone home, made herself a cup of tea and bowl of chicken soup, as well as take several cold medications, the sickness just seemed to grow worse.

By the time evening fell, Christine's body was aching all over, her skin felt hot to the touch, yet she was shivering. She found a thermometer in a bathroom drawer, and took her temperature, groaning as she realized that she had a fever. _Maybe by tomorrow I will be better. Maybe it will all be over before our dinner. _

But it wasn't. On Thursday morning, Christine woke up, after another night of fitful sleep, to find her eyes puffy, her skin flushed, her lips chapped and pale, and her nose stuffed up, swollen, and red. She felt, as well as looked, absolutely miserable.

And while she did not want to admit it…she was in no condition to go out. _Guess I don't have to worry anymore about what may or may not happen at Erik's place. Who would want to kiss _this

With a heavy heart, Christine reached for the phone and dialed the number he had given her. _At least he will hear how I sound, and know that I'm genuinely sick, and not trying to get out of our date. Not that I can imagine any woman wanting to get out of a date with him._ Christine waited for him to pick up, feeling rather surprised when it went to voicemail. _He's probably getting ready for dinner…and now I'm going to have to ruin everything… _

Christine sniffed as she heard the sexy baritone fill her ear, although it was only his voicemail message. She waited for the insufferable "beep" and began to make her apology. "Hi, Erik…it's…it's me, Christine," she bit her lip as another sniffle escaped her throat. "I um…I'm sorry, I…I can only imagine how hard you must be working…" her eyes began to cloud with tears as she imagined him going about his place, trying to make everything perfect because he was just so wonderful. "I caught a cold on Tuesday…and…despite everything that I've tried, it doesn't seem to want to go away," she tried to make a joke, despite the sadness that filled her voice. "I…I'm so sorry," she sniffled, trying to keep herself from crying. "I really am, I…I hope that…that you have a good Thanksgiving." She had to get off the phone or else she would lose it, entirely. "Thanks for inviting me." Without another word, she hung up, and allowed the tears to flow freely.

Only a few days ago, Christine had been overly worrying about what would or would not occur on their date. She felt so foolish now. She would give anything to see him, to spend time with him, to just be in his presence, to hear his voice, to see the laughter in his eyes. She didn't need to kiss him, although she deeply wanted to. No, none of those worries mattered now. She just wished that the masked gentleman of her dreams were with her now.

But like her fantasies, her Thanksgiving date would also have to become just another dream.

* * *

"Ok, turkey is cooking, the vegetables are simmering, the mashed potatoes are ready, I just need to add the gravy once that's finished simmering…oh!" Stephen quickly placed the small bowl of cranberry sauce on the table, before looking back and studying the table setting. As promised, Erik had been spending a minimum of four to five hours a day with him, helping him learn how to cook a special Thanksgiving feast for two. Stephen was slowly beginning to grow a knack for the art, although he hadn't been able to get a wink of sleep the previous night. Erik had been by his side all those other times when he cooked…now, now he would have to do it alone.

Stephen checked the turkey one more time, knowing that it would be ready to come out of the oven soon, although the clock was ticking. It was getting close to 2pm, and Meg would be there any minute! Unless she changed her mind at the last minute, Stephen thought sadly to himself. But he quickly shook his head, determined to not allow any negative thoughts to cloud his mind. Today was going to be perfect! Why? Because Meg deserved perfection.

During the hours he wasn't cooking, Stephen had spent them cleaning up his apartment and trying his hardest to make it look, at the very least, presentable to such a special lady as Meg Giry. He had bought new dishes, silverware, a tablecloth, and even some candles, to make his meager dining table look somewhat fancy for the occasion. The wood floors had been polished, the windows were washed and glistening, and the kitchen, despite all the hours he had spent in it that morning, still looked clean and new.

And then the door buzzer rang.

Stephen nearly dropped the plate of cornbread he was bringing to the table, and checked himself one last time in the mirror. He was wearing a brown suit, his best, with a red tie that Erik had picked for him. His hair was combed and looked neat, his shoes were polished, and his face was shaved. Without another look, he hit the buzzer to allow his visitor in. With slightly nervous hands, he pushed his glasses up, counted to five, and then opened the door.

"Stephen? What are you doing here!? We've been waiting all day for you to come over!"

Stephen's face fell as his eyes met those of his brother-in-law. He began to curse himself, as he realized he had forgotten to tell his sister that he would not be joining her and the family for Thanksgiving this year. "Look, Jerry, now's not a good time—"

"Wow…" Jerry whistled, as he took in the sight of the fancy set table. "Look at this place! Hey! And…do I smell…?" Jerry lifted his nose and took in a big sniff. "Hey…are you cooking? Since when did you learn how to cook?"

"Jerry, please, I have company coming—"

"Company!?" Jerry turned his attention back to Stephen and looked both appalled, and amused. "You mean you're not coming to have dinner with us?!?"

Stephen lifted his eyes heavenward, praying for patience. "No, I'm sorry Jerry, I forgot to call you guys during the week, I've been really busy—"

"It's a girl, right?" Jerry joked. "Not that I care if it's a guy, I mean, what you do in your home is your business."

Stephen turned beet red. "Jerry, I really need you to go, please. Tell my sister that I'm sorry I couldn't make it," he was actually pushing his brother-in-law out the door.

Jerry was finally starting to take the hint, although he was far from having his curiosity sated. "All right, all right, ease off!" he grumbled. "Although I don't know why you couldn't have brought her over to see us, I mean, we're always asking you to bring a date—"

"Stephen?"

Both Stephen and Jerry turned their heads to meet Meg's pretty eyes. She was standing in the hallway, her copper-blonde hair falling about her shoulders in gentle waves, as she gazed up at the two men with curious eyes.

Stephen sucked in a breath as he took in the sight of her. She was wearing a long black skirt, and a reddish-orange blouse, with a small amber necklace around her neck. Her coat was draped across one of her arms, while in her hands she held a pie, covered in foil.

"Someone was leaving the building when I arrived…so I just let myself in." She glanced back and forth between Stephen and Jerry. "Did I…come at a bad time?"

"NO!" Stephen practically blurted, pushing his brother-in-law away from him, and stepping back so Meg could come inside. "Please, won't you come in?" She smiled up at Stephen, and moved past the two gaping men, into the apartment.

Jerry was stunned. "Man…I thought the fact that you had a date would be surprising enough!" he whispered, rather loudly, into Stephen's ear. It was certainly loud enough for Meg to hear. "But…I didn't think that you would ever catch a girl like that!"

Stephen's face was brighter than the red tie that he wore, and he knew that Meg had heard everything. "Thank you for stopping by, Jerry," Stephen murmured through clenched teeth. "Please send my regrets to my sister."

But Jerry wasn't taking the hint. He grinned at Meg and walked right up to her, extending his hand, while his eyes raked her over. "Hi, and you are?" he asked.

Meg blushed, but not wanting to cause Stephen further embarrassment, took Jerry's outstretched hand and shook it. "Meg Giry," she murmured, wondering if the guy would have any clue as to who she was. Apparently not, as the expression on his leering face didn't change.

"She's a looker, alright," Jerry grinned as he shook Meg's hand, not even aware of the embarrassment he was causing both his brother-in-law and his guest. "You must have sold your soul, Stephen, to win such a pretty prize."

That was it. "She's not a prize to be won, she's a person, and she told you her name," Stephen growled, fuming with embarrassment, but more so for the embarrassment that Jerry was causing Meg. "And I've already asked you to leave, and if you do not go now, I will be _forced_ to make you leave!"

Jerry stared at his brother-in-law, the amusement gone completely. Stephen wasn't kidding, he was actually threatening him! "Alright, alright," he grumbled, turning his back on Meg and heading towards the door. "You need to learn to lighten up."

"Thank you for stopping by, Jerry," Stephen growled. "I hope you all have a wonderful holiday."

Jerry muttered the same back, but before he left, his eyes were drawn to the pie that Meg had just set down on the table. "Hey, is that pumpkin? Because my wife never makes pumpkin, even though I love it—"

"Happy Thanksgiving, Jerry! Send my love to the family!" and without another word, Stephen literally pushed his brother-in-law out the door and slammed it in his face. With an exhausted sigh, Stephen leaned against the door and buried his face in his hands.

Meg bit her lip to keep from smiling. She didn't want Stephen to think she was teasing him, she was actually rather proud of him for standing up for himself and shushing the rude family member out.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that," Stephen apologized, lifting his hand away and catching Meg's sparkling eyes. "My brother-in-law, Jerry…he's…well, let's just say he's not the brightest bulb in the package."

Meg giggled and looked down at her feet. "It's alright; I think we all have relatives like that in our families."

Stephen smiled softly, although he was still feeling embarrassed after the whole incident. "The pie looks wonderful," he honestly complimented, pointing to the pastry she had brought.

Meg blushed and smiled, glad that after the third attempt, she had come out successful. "Thank you…and dinner smells wonderful!"

Although no sooner had Meg uttered the words…that a rather foul smell began to fill the small kitchen. Stephen didn't have time to blush over Meg's compliment; his eyes filled with horror as he realized that something was burning! He rushed into the kitchen and looked down into the oven, gasping as he saw his turkey actually catch on fire! "Oh God!" Stephen grabbed a hold of the oven door and pulled it down, leaping away just in time for the flames to miss his face.

"Stephen!" Meg gasped, staring with horrified eyes as Stephen attempted to pull the roasting pan out of the oven. "Stephen, get a fire extinguisher!"

But Stephen was determined to save his bird. "It will be alright, I'll just douse the flames with some water…" He reached up to grab a measuring glass of water that he had sitting beside the stove top…but the glass, because it had been sitting beside his simmering pot of autumn vegetables, was hot to the touch, and Stephen jerked his hand back and hissed in pain…and that's when disaster struck.

Stephen's hand hit the pot of vegetables, which was also hot to the touch, and once more, Stephen yowled and jerked his hand away, only it caused the pot to tip over, and all the vegetables to spill out…and the steaming water to fall down his arm and hand.

Meg covered her mouth as she watched poor Stephen let out another painful cry, only this time he stumbled away from the stove top, his elbow hitting the pot that contained the gravy, causing all its hot contents to fall onto the floor, making it slippery, and causing him to slip…and then trip over the open oven door, and causing him to hit the ground with a loud thud.

Meg didn't waste any time, she grabbed the fire extinguisher near the oven, put out the burning turkey, and then carefully knelt down by Stephen's side, trying to help him up after his nasty tumble. "Oh Stephen," she whimpered, biting her bottom lip as she examined the nasty red marks on his hand and arm. "We should take you to the hospital."

"The h-h-h-hospital?" Stephen coughed. "I…I…I don't need to go to the hospital," he argued, although he was wincing in pain from where the hot water had burnt his hand. Just at that moment, the overhead sprinklers came on, creating a cold, indoor rainstorm, causing Meg to squeal and Stephen to groan in agony. "Then again…the hospital is probably ten times better than this place."

* * *

Erik had been out picking up some last minute supplies when Christine had called.

Being a recluse, Erik had learned many "indoor" skills, such as cooking, and while he didn't necessarily think too highly of himself, he did consider himself a decent cook. So it came as a great annoyance when he burned the rolls he had made from scratch, and had to go out to get some more supplies to fix them. Thank heaven for his uncle's store.

Nadir, his mother's brother, owned a grocery store and connecting restaurant, although it was clear that his uncle did not have the same skills with running a restaurant the way his grandparents had, back in London. Nadir was much better with managing the grocery store, and Erik was grateful that the store would be open, just as Nadir had told him the night before, in case he needed anything before his meal with Christine.

Nadir knew of his nephew's need for privacy. Erik had always been that way; from the moment he brought Erik to America, to all the years that followed. He never insisted that Erik spend special holidays with them, despite his wife's nagging. Nadir had long since learned that Erik would visit when people least expected it. "I do want to meet her, though," Nadir murmured, while Erik was paying for his supplies. "Just in case it becomes serious."

Erik said nothing; he simply thanked his uncle for all his help, before leaving the store and driving back to his apartment. Jonathon was a good friend, but Nadir was, in truth, the person Erik was closest to. Nadir understood Erik better than anyone, and deep down, Erik knew that his uncle was right. After all, Nadir was family, and he knew that his uncle only wished for Erik's happiness.

After returning home, Erik noticed the light on his cell phone was blinking. He had forgotten to bring the phone with him, and checked to see whom the message was from. At first, he didn't recognize the number, and began to wonder who would call him? Then, slowly, realization dawned on him, and he quickly listened to the message, his heart dropping as he heard Christine's sad apology, through her congested sniffles.

She was ill, very ill from the sound of things. And she couldn't come.

Erik couldn't deny the fact that he was disappointed. Even though he was extremely nervous, he was very much looking forward to seeing Christine again, to sharing dinner with her. _And to having her in your home, if you're honest with yourself. _

He didn't delete the message; instead he listened to it again, and heard the genuine sorrow in her voice. Once upon a time, Erik would have assumed such a message was simply a well-rehearsed excuse, a way of getting out of having dinner with him. Once upon a time, Erik would have understood such excuses; in fact he would have expected them.

But as he listened to Christine's words, despite the sniffles and coughs that interrupted her sentences…he could hear _her_ disappointment, _her_ despair, for having to cancel their plans. And he felt his heart tug at the sound of tears, welled up in her voice, near the end of the message. Ever since he met Christine Davis, Erik found himself believing in the impossible. Once upon a time he would have expected a beautiful woman like Christine to blow him off…but Christine was Christine; she wouldn't do something like that. And while a part of him told himself, over and over again, to not get his hopes up…he truly believed that perhaps, just perhaps…Christine felt the same way he felt.

The sound of the oven chiming told Erik that his turkey was finished. He glanced over at the food he had prepared, most of it finished, some of it waiting until his guest arrived so he could serve it fresh and hot. But his guest wasn't coming; she was at home, ill, and utterly miserable.

Erik turned the oven off and bent down to retrieve the turkey. He gazed at the beautifully cooked bird, hating that he would have to throw away what he couldn't finish…and hating the fact that Christine was home alone, feeling absolutely horrid, on a day that was meant to be filled with love and happiness.

And that was when he made his decision. _It may not have been what either of us planned…and she may hate me for what I'm about to do…but by God, I'm going to see that she has a happy Thanksgiving, despite everything. _

With his mind made up, he took the carving knife and began cutting the turkey up into small pieces.

* * *

Christine sniffed as she lay curled up on her small couch, watching one of the many Thanksgiving television specials, a thick blanket wrapped tightly around her body, her right hand holding a box of tissues, while her left stroked the cat that was curled up on her lap.

Rupert, her brown tabby, yawned and stretched beneath her fingers while she stroked him from chin to belly. "You're supposed to be providing _me_ with comfort," Christine grumbled at the lazy feline. "Not demanding attention for yourself." Rupert only responded with a purr. Christine couldn't help but smile; Rupert was about the only male who had been steady in her life. She glanced over at the clock on top of her television set and sighed. It was nearly four, about the time when she and Erik would have been having dinner together. "What do you think, Rupe? Is he eating alone? Or did he find some other lucky lady to share his meal with?" She meant the words as a joke, but a part of her did worry that perhaps Erik would find someone else to share his Thanksgiving Day meal with, and she hated the thought of another woman finding such warm comfort in his company.

The buzzer to Christine's apartment suddenly let out a cry, causing Rupert to jump off Christine's lap and give the noisy object that hung near the apartment door a filthy look. Christine's brow furrowed and wondered who it could be? Brian knew she wasn't coming over for Thanksgiving, and Meg was spending her day with Stephen. _Lucky girl…at least one of us gets to have a date. _

With a groan, Christine managed to lift herself off the couch, the blanket still clutched around her body and the tissues still in her hands, and answered the buzzing intercom. "Yes?" she coughed, her nose so stuffed up that she barely recognized her own voice.

"Christine?"

The tissue box hit the ground with an echoing thud.

Erik! It was Erik's voice! Erik Henri, the incredibly charming, sexy, and gentlemanly masked man…was at her apartment!

_What the heck is he doing here!? Didn't he get my message? I…__oh God! He can't see me like this!_

"Christine? It's Erik…"

"Um…" Christine coughed and rolled her eyes, feeling a strong headache come on. She couldn't believe this was happening. "H-hi, Erik," she weakly replied, feeling horrible. "I um…I g-g-guess you didn't—" she paused to sneeze. "I guess you didn't get my message," she sniffled, after picking up the tissue box and wiping her nose. Great, the last thing she wanted to do was tell him, again, that she couldn't spend the day with him. She would surely lose it this time…

"Actually," Erik's voice murmured, reminding Christine of a soft, velvety blanket that could keep a girl warm, all through the winter. "I did receive your message. And I'm very sorry to hear about your cold."

Christine was touched by his words, but still confused as to why he had come then.

"Forgive me, I know this sounds awfully forward of me, but…I was wondering if I could come up?"

Christine nearly dropped the tissue box again. Come up!? Why on earth would he wish to do that!? "Um…I…I don't think that's a good idea," Christine attempted to reason. "You see, it's a very serious cold…I w-wish it were only sneezing and coughing…but it's more than that," Christine paused between her sentences as if to demonstrate by coughing. "I think I'm contagious," she explained. "I got it from a coworker…and…and…" she paused again to sneeze. "I have a fever…and…I really wouldn't want to infect you—"

Christine was startled by the sound of knocking on her apartment door. Who in the world…?

And then a feeling of dread came over her. She glanced at the intercom, then at the door, and then back at the intercom, before saying, in a rather soft voice, "Erik? Are you…still there?"

"Christine?"

His voice wasn't coming from the intercom, but from behind the door!

"There was a woman downstairs who was coming inside. She asked who I was trying to meet and allowed me to come up."

Christine groaned and closed her eyes. _Darn Mrs. Butler and her conniving ways!_ She could not believe this was happening! "Um…Erik, I'm really quite sick. I appreciate you coming down here, and…and please know that I wish I was well and could come to dinner—"

"Christine, forgive me for interrupting, but may I come in? I know that's extremely forward of me to ask, but I brought you a few things to help with your cold."

The tissue box hit the floor again. He knew she was ill, and yet had come anyway? He wanted to see her, despite the fact that she was all…icky? He actually brought her stuff to help with her sickness? What could she do!? She couldn't let the guy stand outside her door all day! With a groan of defeat, Christine glanced at her reflection in a nearby mirror, attempted to smooth down her tangled hair, frowned when she realized there was little she could do to improve her appearance, and with a deep sigh, opened the apartment door.

Erik was standing just on the other side, leaning partially against the doorframe. God, he looked sexy doing that! His hands held several plastic bags, and while his smile to her was sympathetic, it was also warm and inviting. "I apologize again for disturbing you," he murmured, causing Christine's toes to curl inward.

"You're not disturbing me," Christine murmured back, before stepping aside to allow him in. "I just…didn't want you to get sick…"

Erik smiled and entered her apartment, immediately admiring it's cozy atmosphere. "Would you be so kind as to show me where the kitchen is?" he asked, smiling down at her once more, filling Christine with such warmth. She pointed in the kitchen's direction and watched with fascination as Erik immediately made himself "at home". He began unpacking his plastic bags, revealing several large plastic containers. Without a word, he began opening a few cupboards, finding various pots and pans, and immediately went to work.

He turned the oven on, and Christine watched as he took a large glass casserole dish, covered with foil, and placed it in the oven. He then took a few of the pots he had found in the cupboards, and poured several contents from his various plastic containers into them, and set the heat on the stove. A few of the items he placed inside her refrigerator, and one he placed inside her freezer. Christine was absolutely amazed; _intelligent, charming, polite, sexy, a talented musician, _and_ he knows his way around the kitchen. How is it possible that this guy is not taken!? _

"Alright, that's taken care of," he said with a smile as he turned to her. "Now let's take care of you."

Christine's flushed face paled at his words. "M-m-me?"

Erik nodded his head, before bending down to retrieve the fallen tissue box she had dropped earlier. "Let's get you tucked in. As soon as the food is finished, we'll eat, but before then, you need to stay in bed."

Christine was stunned. Erik had just walked into her apartment, immediately began cooking her dinner…and now, was taking charge with seeing to her care! Not to mention suggesting that she climb into bed…with him nearby!

This wasn't a dream, was it?

But before Erik could coax Christine in the direction of her bedroom, her eyes widened with horror as a sudden realization came over her. "Oh God…no, no, you can't go in there, I…I um…" without another word, Christine turned on her heel, dropping the blanket that she had been wearing, and rushing into her room to pick up all the dirty laundry she had strewn across the floor, not to mention the many crumpled tissues that lined it, because her garbage can was already full.

Erik's brow crinkled with confusion, and he began to follow her, wondering what the matter was, but before he could take a step in the direction of her bedroom, Christine slammed the door in his face, apologizing through a fit of coughs, but explaining that it was necessary. He could hear her rummaging around the room, and once more, he was arguing with himself over the matter that he should have warned her that he was coming over by calling first. But he knew if he had done that, she would probably insist that he not come over, which he would tell his clients to obey. _Never overstep a lady's boundaries._ Yet here he was, going against his own rules.

If he got down to it, Erik knew that the real debate wasn't so much whether he should come or not, but why he was there. Was it truly to see after her? To make sure she was all right? Or was it because _he_ wanted to see her again, sickness or no, he needed to see her?

Suddenly, the door opened, and Erik saw Christine, smiling sheepishly, as she stood in somewhat less disheveled bedroom. "Um…so…" Christine felt extremely embarrassed by the sudden awkwardness of the situation. There she was, standing in the entrance of her bedroom, with the man of her dreams standing so close. If she weren't as sick as a dog, she knew she would grab him about the neck and pull him down for a hot, earth-shattering kiss that would lead to more earth-shattering activities on her bed. But the fact of the matter was…she was as sick as a dog, and while he was being kind, he no doubt was repulsed by her present appearance. Sex was probably the last thing on his mind right now.

Erik was grateful his mask hid the flushness of his face. For the past few nights, he had been tossing and turning with the very thought of having Christine in his home, only a few feet away from his bedroom. Not only had it been ten years since his last date…it had also been ten years since the last time he had been with a woman. Not that that should matter, at least not on this date. She was simply coming over for Thanksgiving dinner, and while the temptation would be present, he was determined to not allow his growing lust to take control. And when he heard her sad apology on his phone, all he could think about was seeing her…and all he felt was a deep desire to take care of her.

Yet even in her ill state, she was beautiful. Her skin was paler than usual, but there was still a feminine glow within her cheeks. Her eyes looked pink and tired, but they still sparkled. Her hair was tangled, but it still didn't shake his desire to run his fingers through it. And he couldn't help but find her adorable in the flannel pajamas that she wore.

No, sickness or not, Erik's desire was still present, if not stronger than before.

"Well…" Erik coughed, trying to look and sound cool and collected. "Let's get you into bed, and I'll check on the food."

Christine blushed and nodded her head, before turning and climbing into her queen size bed, never truly noticing how large it was until Erik was standing nearby. _Large enough to comfortably hold two_, she thought to herself, which only caused her face to darken.

Erik swallowed the somewhat nervous lump in his throat, and actually tucked her in, something that Christine thought was absolutely sweet. "We should elevate your head, so that you don't become even more congested," he murmured, before reaching behind her and arranging her pillows just so.

He was very close, so close that despite her blocked nose, Christine could smell his aftershave. She glanced up at him and felt her skin tingle, as she realized that his mouth was only a few inches away. He had such a beautiful mouth…

"There we are," Erik said, satisfied with his work. He smiled down at her, and realized that he was practically leaning over her. Her lips were parted, and Erik's breathing instantly quickened. "I…I um…" he shook his head, trying to pull himself together. "I brought some cold medicine…simple over-the-counter treatments. Have you taken anything?"

Christine sniffled and nodded her head. "I took something about two hours ago, although I don't think it's working very well."

Erik smiled, before reluctantly moving away from the bed. "Whenever I get a cold, I make myself a special tea. I'll make you a cup…and um," he looked down at a small plastic bag that he had brought into the bedroom. "Here," he whispered, blushing deeply behind the mask.

Christine took the offered object that he had pulled from the bag, before watching him turn from her and leave the bedroom. She looked down at the object and felt her own cheeks flush.

Medicated Chest Rub.

With a blushing smile, Christine took the chest rub and put a little under her nose, as well as on her chest to help relieve some of the congestion, while she listened to Erik work in the kitchen. _I wonder if this is what married life is like?_ Christine thought to herself. She liked that idea, the idea of a couple taking care of one another. She remembered when she was a child, how when her father became ill, he moaned and groaned as if it were the end of the world, while her mother lovingly fussed over him. Christine had always wanted someone to care for her the same way her parents cared for one another. She was so used to dealing with sickness on her own, that it felt strange to have someone else there, watching over her, especially when she was still getting to know that someone. Yes, it was a strange feeling…but it was also a nice one.

The scream of the teakettle announced that her tea had finished. A few seconds later, Erik entered the bedroom with a steaming cup. "Careful, it is quite hot," he warned, as he handed the mug to her. Christine gave him a grateful smile, and already, as she held the warm mug near her face, she could feel the benefit of the tea's herbs.

"Thank you," Christine murmured, as she carefully took a sip. "You really didn't have to do all this."

Erik smiled. "It's Thanksgiving…no one should be alone, especially when they're not feeling well."

Christine blushed, but smiled back, feeling ten times better than she had earlier. This mysterious masked man seemed to possess some strange sort of magic. No matter how her day was going…he always seemed to make things better. "Oh!" Christine caught a small whiff of the food cooking in the kitchen. "What is that? It smells delicious!"

Erik grinned, glad that she could appreciate the smell of his cooking. He hoped that by the time he left, most of her congestion would be broken. "I won't deny that I did spend the whole morning cooking a turkey." Christine bit her lip, feeling absolutely horrible that he had gone to so much trouble. But before she could utter another apology, Erik lifted a finger and placed it near her lips. "But after I received your message, I hated the thought of that good food going to waste…and thinking of you not being able to enjoy it…so…" As if on cue, a timer went off, and Erik grinned as he leapt to his feet to fetch whatever it was that he was making.

Curious, Christine rose from the bed, the mug still in her hands, as she followed him into the kitchen. "What on earth…?"

Erik turned and gave her a stern look, although it made Christine giggle more than anything. "You should be in bed…I'll bring you the food."

But Christine shook her head. "Let's eat in the living room. I'll put some dishes on the coffee table—"

"_I'll_ set the dishes," Erik interrupted, trying to look stern, but also grinning back at her. "You make yourself comfortable, and make sure you have plenty of blankets."

Christine blushed, but grinned at his orders, and did just that. She retrieved the blanket she had been wearing earlier, and repositioned herself back on her couch, while Erik finished his work in the kitchen, before fetching them both some silverware and napkins. "What about plates?" Christine asked, but Erik held up a finger, the silent gesture telling her he had everything under control. She sat back down and waited, grinning as he hummed various songs from _The Wizard of Oz_, her favorite musical. Finally, he entered the living room, carrying a tray much like a waiter.

"Ah, here we are, mademoiselle," he announced, with a playful French accent. "The house special, just for you."

Christine couldn't stop giggling. "You'll give Mia a run for her money," she laughed.

Erik grinned back, and continued playing. "Our specials this evening," he continued in his French accent, "are turkey ala noodle soup, seasonal steamed vegetables, and of course…Thanksgiving casserole."

Christine gazed at all the delicious food he laid before her. In a large bowl, was a soup that looked like chicken noodle, but instead had turkey, along with other vegetables, and hearty egg noodles. On the plate he laid before her, was a hearty portion of some kind of casserole. Upon closer examination, she realized that he had taken the turkey stuffing, and layered it with turkey meat and mashed potatoes and gravy, before adding a final layer of stuffing, and baking it all together. There were also different vegetables on her plate, each steamed to the point that they would be soft when she bit into them. And for garnish, she noticed he had placed a small dab of cranberry sauce. Was there anything this man _couldn't_ do?

"You…you did all this?" she asked, her eyes wide with wonder as she gazed up at him. "You put all this together…after I told you I couldn't come over?"

Erik felt his face flush and looked away. "No one should be alone on Thanksgiving," he repeated, before putting his own plate and bowl down on the coffee table.

"But…but you made all these dishes? I mean, you spent the time to turn the meal you had made…" there were tears welling up in Christine's eyes. She was so moved by everything he had done! "You created a special soup…and casserole, just for me—"

"Happy Thanksgiving, Christine," Erik murmured, lifting a finger and placing it before her lips, before softly smiling at her. "I know I have much to be thankful for," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

_Me too_, Christine thought as she gazed back at him. "Happy Thanksgiving, Erik."

* * *

Stephen was incredibly embarrassed. He and Meg were sitting in a hospital waiting room, waiting for the hospital's pharmacy to finish filling out the prescription the doctor had given him to treat the burns on his arm from the boiling water.

"Don't worry, you're not the first 'Thanksgiving' accident to come in today, nor will you be the last," the doctor joked, as he examined Stephen's burns. Meg had stood by his side the whole time, much to Stephen's surprise. When the nurse told him that the doctor would see him, she insisted that she accompany him into the room. Stephen didn't protest, he actually liked the way Meg insisted, although he did blush extremely bright when the doctor, upon entering the room, asked if Meg was his wife!

Stephen wanted to curl up and die right then and there. But much to his shock…Meg didn't act embarrassed or disgusted! She did blush…but it was the words that escaped her mouth that truly caused Stephen's heart to stop.

"No, but I am his girlfriend."

Everything after that moment became a blur. Literally. Stephen fainted, right there on the examination table. A few seconds later, he was revived, the doctor assuming that his fainting spell had something to do with the burns causing some sort of brain fever. Stephen went along with the doctor's diagnosis; he didn't want to explain that he had just fainted from the shock of having the most beautiful woman in the world claim him as her boyfriend.

Now, the two of them were sitting, waiting for his prescription, and an awkward silence had fallen over them both. "I um…" Stephen finally attempted. "I…I'm really sorry about today," he murmured under his breath. "This hasn't been the most ideal Thanksgiving."

No, it had not. First his brother-in-law invaded his home and embarrassed him in front of Meg, and then he made an absolute fool of himself, not to mention he ruined their dinner, and now…they were in the hospital of all places! And he had fainted! Could he be anymore pathetic?

"It certainly has been memorable though," Meg murmured, turning to him and smiling sweetly. Stephen felt his heart skip a beat at the way she smiled at him. It was just like that time he first met her; Meg just had a way to make a man feel special whenever she smiled.

"I…I'm sorry about dinner—"

"Stephen, I have a confession to make," Meg interrupted. "I can't cook, not one bit. So when you told me you were making dinner, I was determined to do something for you…so I asked my friend to come over and help me make a pie for you," she finished, looking sheepish and blushing brightly.

Stephen's mouth was hanging open, but he quickly shut it. It wasn't the fact that she had told him she wasn't entirely responsible for the pie that surprised him, but the fact that she had told him she wanted to do something _for_ him. Didn't she know that she had already done so much?

"I'm just saying," Meg continued, looking down at the hands in her lap. "You surprise me. You're always surprising me," she giggled, her eyes sparkling as she gazed back at him. "From the moment you punched Tony…to the fashion show…to inviting me over for a home-cooked Thanksgiving…you never cease to amaze me."

Stephen smiled back, his heart swelling with warmth and hope. Was it actually possible that such an exquisite, incredible woman…could like a guy like him?

"And besides!" Meg grinned, lifting a brown grocery bag that she had brought with them. "We still have my pie," she giggled. "I'd say we managed to salvage some of our Thanksgiving meal."

Stephen chuckled back and watched as Meg lifted the pie from the bag and pulled back the foil that covered it. "Shall we?" she grinned, taking her index finger and hovering it over the pie's orange surface.

"Bottom's up," Stephen smiled, doing the same and dipping his finger into the pie. With large smiles, they both took a taste of Meg's pie…and immediately began gagging.

"Oh my lord!" Meg coughed, her face contorted in disgust. "What _is_ that?"

Stephen was also taken aback from the strange taste. "It tastes…salty?"

Suddenly, Meg's face turned a bright shade of red, as realization dawned upon her. "No, no, this couldn't have happened to me, again!" she groaned, before burying her face in her hands.

"What? What happened?" Stephen asked, looking genially worried.

Meg lifted her head and sighed wearily. "Salt. I got the salt and the sugar mixed up…again!"

The two of them stared at each other, and then at the pie, and then back at one another…before laughter erupted between them. The two of them had spent the last few days worrying about their meal, spending long hours trying to perfect what cooking skills they lacked…and despite all their hard work, in the end they were no better off than before!

But it was the fact that they both had tried, that they both had put so much effort into it for the other…that truly moved both Stephen and Meg.

"I guess we shouldn't open a restaurant anytime soon," Meg giggled.

Stephen laughed. "At least not one where we're in charge of the kitchen."

Just then a woman from the pharmacy approached them and gave Stephen his prescription. "I also wanted to inform you that our hospital cafeteria is providing a Thanksgiving meal, in case you're interested."

Stephen glanced at Meg and grinned. "It is hospital food," he warned her.

Meg nodded her head. "True…but I have a feeling that their pie will still be ten times better than mine."

They both laughed again and rose to their feet. "I think it's the perfect way to end our Thanksgiving," Stephen concluded, as he offered Meg his arm. It wasn't a fancy restaurant meal…nor an intimate home cooked one. But it fit them, it seemed. It simply felt…right.

"I agree," Meg grinned, taking his offered arm and smiling up at him. "And I don't just mean the perfect way to end our day…I mean that it's perfect." Without warning, she leaned up and kissed his cheek, causing Stephen to blush ten shades redder. "Happy Thanksgiving, Stephen."

Stephen smiled back, and felt as if he were walking ten feet off the ground. "Happy Thanksgiving, Meg."

* * *

Christine had never felt more comfortable in her entire life. Even the moments when she was a little girl and her mother cuddled her when she wasn't feeling well couldn't compare! Christine was nestled on the couch, the blanket wrapped tightly around her, Rupert, who decided to come out of hiding, snuggled on her lap, and Erik sitting beside her.

After their meal, Erik moved from the chair he had been sitting in, to the couch. Rupert, who had been hiding the whole time (he was very wary around strangers) decided to make his presence known just then, and hopped up onto the couch, settling himself, purposefully, between her and Erik.

"Who is this?" Erik had asked, smiling down at the cat, which seemed to be glaring right back at him.

"Rupert," Christine grumbled, attempting to move the brown tabby onto her lap, but the cat was having none of it. "He's rather territorial."

"I don't blame him," Erik murmured under his breath, more to himself than to Christine. "Perhaps we should get you back into bed?"

Christine blushed at the sexy way he said that, but she actually wanted to stay on her couch and watch a little television with Erik by her side. She didn't know why, but the thought of doing simple, "at-home" things, with Erik next to her, excited her. "Let me at least catch the scores," Christine protested, grabbing the remote control and turning the TV back on to one of the many Thanksgiving Day football games.

Erik's brow furrowed. "You're a football fan?"

Christine giggled. "I tend to pay more attention to the college games than the pros, but I am part of a fantasy football league at work."

Erik couldn't help but smile. Just when he thought he had Christine Davis figured out, she managed to surprise him, yet again.

"Checking the scores" soon turned into "watching the game". Both Christine and Erik took opposing sides, and made little jokes at one another while they watched the game. Erik, who never really cared much for American football (growing up in London, soccer…or _true_ football, as he liked to call it, was the game of choice), found himself getting into the game, cheering for his team, playfully booing Christine's, and having a great time.

During half-time, Erik brought in dessert. Christine smelled the delicious apples and cinnamon before the pie even entered the living room. "Oh! I love apple pie!" Christine grinned. "My family always had apple pie on Thanksgiving."

Erik smiled, glad he had chosen to make it as opposed to the traditional pumpkin. "Because you've been a good patient...and because your team is winning," he playfully teased while opening the freezer. "I think you're entitled to have your pie, ala mode."

Christine moaned in hunger at the very thought, and greedily accepted the offered dessert when Erik returned. She was sorely tempted to ask Erik why he wasn't married; a man with cooking skills like his were hard to find! What were women thinking, allowing a guy like him to slip through their fingers!? _What have I done to luck out? _Christine just grinned and enjoyed her pie, glancing every now and then at the masked man beside her.

When the games were over, and after they had finished dessert, Christine found another excuse for staying on the couch. "_The Wizard of Oz_ is a Thanksgiving tradition! I _have_ to watch it." Erik knew better than to argue, so he agreed, and once again…found himself entangled in the warmth, laughter, and joy of Christine's world.

By that point, Rupert had moved onto Christine's lap, and fell fast asleep while Christine softly stroked his head. Erik moved just a little closer, and allowed his arm to rest on the back of the couch, just behind Christine's back. They weren't touching…but they could feel one another's presence.

Erik smiled as Christine nasally sang along with the songs, still amazed at the incredible beauty of her voice. He remembered how only a week ago, she confessed to him that she was afraid of singing in front of people…and then closed her eyes, and sang in front of him, thus taking one step towards conquering her fear. Her voice was exquisite; Erik could happily close his eyes and spend hours upon hours listening to her sing.

During the moments in the film when the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion sang, Erik surprised Christine by joining in. She knew before she heard him sing that he had a wonderful voice…but this only enhanced her fantasies. She joined him when Dorothy joined in the singing, and the two of them sang the songs together, giggling as they stumbled over the words every now and then.

This was perfect, no, better than perfect. This was heaven! Christine's day had started out looking so miserable, but Erik…her wonderful masked prince charming, turned it into one of the best days of her life. She was feeling ten times better, the meal had been one of the most delicious meals she had ever had, and now…she was practically cuddling with him on her sofa! It was the perfect end to a perfect day…

Erik was surprised when Christine didn't join in singing after all the characters had arrived in the Emerald City to see The Wizard. He looked down at her to see if something was the matter…and in the next instant, she was leaning in against him! Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was slow and steady. She had fallen asleep, and her head had comfortably found a pillow against his chest.

Erik didn't know what to do! Move her? But that would disturb her and possibly wake her up...not to mention he _loved_ the way she felt against him. "Christine?" he gently whispered, while one hand stroked her shoulder to see if he could get a response. But she didn't reply, save for a sleepy moan, and only snuggled herself even more against him.

Erik swallowed the dry lump in his throat and gazed down at her. All his life, ever since he was a young boy and watched his mother and father look adoringly at one another...he knew, more than anything, he wanted to experience romance. He wanted to know that kind of love, the love two people could have for another, the yearning, the desire, the joy of finding happiness within your beloved's arms. With a tender hand, Erik carefully ran his fingers through the tangled strands of her brown hair...and let out a peaceful sigh as he felt its softness. Rupert lifted his head then, and watched as Erik stroked Christine's hair. The cat gave Erik a look, as if it were one of quiet approval, before leaping off her lap and wandering somewhere else. While Erik's hand continued to stroke her hair...his other hand carefully wrapped around her body, pulling her ever so gently, closer.

God almighty...it was a glorious feeling. She felt so right against him, her smaller frame fitting his body perfectly. When she leaned against his chest, he could lean his head down just slightly, and rest his chin atop her head. With another peaceful sigh, Erik closed his eyes and relished in the joy of having Christine in his arms, of holding her close, of feeling her heart beat against his chest. "All my life, I've wanted this," he whispered into her hair. "But I knew...because of my face...that it would never be mine. That a man like me was not destined to experience love and happiness..." his arm tightened just slightly, and he breathed in the sweet fragrance that was simply, Christine. "But...then I met you. And ever since...I can't stop hoping, I can't stop believing that perhaps...I _can_ experience love, that I can _know_ love," he held his breath for a moment as he gazed down at her sleeping face. "And...that...you could possibly love me, in return."

"Mmmm..." Christine sleepily murmured, burrowing her head even closer. "Erik..."

Erik felt his heart burst with hope as she murmured his name. Did she dream about him, the same way he dreamt about her? Now that he had felt her in his arms, now that he had heard her murmur his name in her sleep...now that he had _met_ her...he could not let her go. "I've a confession to make, Christine," Erik whispered into her hair once more. "I...I think I...no, no, I _know_...I'm falling in love with you," he moaned, holding her close. "And...I should warn you...that I am going to do everything in my power...to win _your_ love, in return."

Was that a smile he saw on her lips? With great gentleness, Erik ran a finger down her cheek and marveled in the soft feeling. "I'm far from perfect...but I will do everything I can, to prove to you that I'm a good man."

Christine fidgeted just slightly, and Erik knew that it would be best to put her in bed. With great, tender care, he lifted her off the couch, relishing in the wonderful feeling of holding her in his arms, and carried her to her bed, where he adjusted her pillows and tucked the blankets up around her chin. With a long, loving look, he gazed down at her...and then leaned down to brush his lips against her brow. "Sweet dreams, sweet Christine," he whispered, before slowly backing out of the room, and shutting the door behind him.


	16. Romantic Comedy of Errors

**...just wanted to wish Pertie a very happy birthday, who told me how much she enjoys this story. I dedicate this chapter to her. Enjoy!**

**Summary:** Erik and Christine share an awkward "morning after", filled with misunderstanding, odd silences, and tons of sexual tension!

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Romantic Comedy of Errors_**

"Mmmmmm…" Christine purred as she stretched her arms up over her head, waking from what she had to describe as the most peaceful and wonderful sleep she had had in…well…ever! She rolled over, not wanting to leave the comfort of her soft bed, not wanting to truly wake up, at least not just yet. She had had the most wonderful dream, where Erik had come over, despite her cold, and served her a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner, and then the two of them sat down on the couch, and she fell asleep in his arms—

Christine's smile suddenly disappeared and she sat straight up, her face paling and her eyes growing wider as she came to realize…it hadn't been a dream!

Yesterday was Thanksgiving! Erik _had_ come over! And the last thing she remembered was watching _The Wizard of Oz_ on television, and…and…

"Oh God!" Christine gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. _This is not happening…this did not happen!_ She did not fall asleep on the couch…did she? She lifted her face from her pillow and bit her lip. She had no memory of leaving the couch to climb into bed…and she had absolutely no memory of Erik leaving…

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and with tentative steps, climbed out of bed and tiptoed towards the doorway that divided her bedroom from the rest of the apartment. "Erik?" she whispered, poking her head around the corner, scanning the room for signs of life, but all she found was Rupert, her tabby cat, laying on the couch, grooming himself. Rupert casually lifted his head when Christine entered the room, looking at her with judging eyes. "Stop that," she grumbled at him, and he went right back to grooming himself. However, Christine continued looking at her cat…because the cat was sitting atop a very rumpled-looking blanket…the same blanket she had been wrapped up in last night…

"Oh God!" she cried again, burying her face into her hands. "I didn't dream it, it's true! I fell asleep on him! I can't believe I did that!" without another word, Christine flopped herself down onto the couch, and buried her face into a nearby pillow. "I fell asleep on him, and probably drooled all over him!" she continued to moan, her voice muffled against the pillow's fabric. "And he _carried_ me!" she gasped, lifting her head and staring into Rupert's eyes. "The most incredible, considerate, wonderful, and _sexy_ guy I've ever met…carried me to my bed…and I _missed_ it!" she screeched at the cat, which simply blinked at her, before burying her face once more into the pillow. "Ugh! And he's gone, probably never wanting to see—"

"Christine?"

Christine's head shot up from the pillow, and her eyes went even wider as she took in the sight of the very man she had been thinking about, standing there, looking wonderful as always, and holding a large paper bag.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he quickly apologized, setting the bag down and removing his coat.

Christine simply stared at him with wide eyes. Was she still dreaming? Did Erik just walk through her door, as if he had always done so? Was she in some strange alternate universe, like the _Twilight Zone_?

"I um…" _Oh God, did he hear what I was just saying?_ She glanced helplessly at Rupert, who simply seemed to have a look that said…_oh you bet he did!_ She wanted to die, to curl up and die, right there.

"Did you see my note?" Erik asked, hanging his coat in the hall closet.

Christine returned her gaze back to him. "N-n-note?" she asked, still feeling incredibly embarrassed.

"I didn't want to wake you," he began explaining. "You looked so—" Erik paused for a moment and quickly considered his next words. _Beautiful? Adorable? Gorgeous?_ "—peaceful," he continued, "that I wrote you a note to explain everything, in case you awoke before I returned."

Christine's face darkened to a shade of red that she was sure scientists hadn't discovered, as she realized the very note he had been speaking about was right there, in front of her, on the coffee table. "Oh," was all she said, as she looked down at the note, wanting to curl up and die even more now than ever before.

_Christine—_

_Should you find this before I return, I hope that you had a very pleasant sleep. I went to get some breakfast, and should be back shortly. –Erik_

Christine nibbled on her bottom lip as she read the note and then glanced back up at him. Had he stayed the whole night?

Erik seemed to be fidgeting slightly, his eyes glancing back and forth from the note on the coffee table to the brown sack he had brought in, occasionally glancing at Christine, but quickly looking away when she lifted her eyes to meet his. "I um…I know it was awfully forward of me," he began to apologize, placing her apartment keys down on the coffee table. "I just…I noticed that you were low on some groceries, so I thought…" Good God, could he sound any worse?

"Oh," Christine murmured again, unsure how to respond, still in shock that he had gone out, bought her groceries, and on top of it all, spent the night! "S-s-so," she began, stuttering slightly, "You…you stayed here?"

Erik could feel his face darkening beneath his mask. "I…well…" what could he say, other than the truth? "Yes, but I slept on the couch." Not two seconds after he said those words, Erik was immediately wincing and cursing himself, inwardly.

Christine blushed even more, realizing what he meant, and quickly looked down at the ground. How should she respond? The truth of the matter was, she liked the fact that he stayed, which was odd, for if it were any other guy she would be calling the cops to get him out of her apartment on the double! She still didn't really know Erik all that well; they had had one date, _a very good date_, and technically speaking, Thanksgiving had also been a date…one that also went very well. And yes, they had spent the whole night on their first date talking and learning more about each other…as well as that other night, after having dinner with Meg and Stephen Dulane, when they walked around the city, but…was she at a level where she would be comfortable allowing someone to sleep on her couch, to take her apartment keys, and run errands for her?

Truthfully? No, she wouldn't be comfortable with allowing someone to do those things…but with Erik, she was. Erik wasn't just someone; he was…well, Erik! And she liked him…a lot. _You've had so many defenses up your whole life. Maybe…just maybe, you've found someone who you can trust, fully. Even with your heart…_

Erik wasn't sure how much longer he could stand the silence; it was one of the most awkward silences he had ever encountered. "So!" he tried to sound lighthearted, when in truth, all he wanted to do was be sucked into a black hole. "Um…would you like some breakfast?"

Christine lifted her eyes off the floor, awoken by her thoughts. "Breakfast?" she asked, lifting her eyes to meet his, and blushing even more as she caught his intense gaze.

Erik had to shake his head, he had been momentarily thrown off by the blue in her eyes; they looked so clear, after a good night's sleep. "Yes," he quickly replied, retreating to the brown sack and pulling out different kinds of food. "I can make you eggs, any way you like them? And I got bacon and sausage, so whichever you want, I can make…and um…I got several different kinds of fruit, and I can make you toast…" he continued digging through the contents of the bag. "And they had cinnamon-raisin bagels, and I remember that was the kind you liked from that one morning…" he knew he was babbling, and he felt like a complete idiot.

Christine was amazed at how much food he had gotten! Normally, when it came to breakfast, she just had a bowl of cold cereal, or grabbed a bagel to go, nothing fancy like Erik was talking about. "Bacon and eggs sound really good," she admitted, blushing slightly and smiling. "And I do love cinnamon-raisin…"

Erik let out a small sigh of relief, glad she was pleased with his offer to make her breakfast, as opposed to being weirded out. "Alright then!" he said with a smile and quick clap of the hands, something he immediately winced at, knowing he probably looked like an idiot doing just that. "Well, I'll start on your breakfast, and give you the opportunity to freshen up—"

"What!?" Christine's sweet smile faded completely, and she sprang to her feet, a look of complete horror on her face. Before Erik could even begin to ask her what was wrong, she dashed from where he stood and ran to the bathroom just through her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She couldn't believe she hadn't checked her appearance! Oh God, how must she have looked! Christine fumbled with the light switch and stared in absolute horror at her reflection.

Her hair was sticking out in every way imaginable! Her skin looked flushed and clammy, her cheeks looked swollen, her eyes looked puffy, her nose was bright red, and to top it all off, her pajamas smelled! "UGH!"

Erik heard her cry of disgust, and his first instinct was to rush to the bathroom door and check to see if she was all right. But the next thing he heard was the sound of the sink being turned on, and what sounded like rigorous teeth brushing. "Great, not only do you manage to look like a stalker, and an idiot, but you also manage to insult her!" he hissed at himself. Erik groaned and ran his hand through his hair, before turning and entering the kitchen to get started on her breakfast.

"Could that have sounded worse?" he asked himself, as he began to place the groceries he wouldn't be using into the refrigerator. Good God, if he could have an outer body experience, and have his own "date coach" standing there, observing everything he said and did…well, needless to say, he would be kicking himself over and over again. How many principles had he broken? "Let's see," he grumbled to himself. "One, you spend the night without asking for her permission—then make a further ass of yourself by telling her you slept on her couch, as if you had done her a great favor by not sharing her bed with her, which doesn't come across as gentlemanly, just down-right creepy!" he gripped the edge of the kitchen countertop and summoned his patience. "Two, you take her keys, once again without asking for her permission, and then reveal that you 'snooped' through her cabinets and refrigerator, insult her by buying groceries, which more or less tells her that I don't think the food she has is good enough," he groaned, the sarcasm and personal disdain, growing with each word. "And lastly, you just made her feel horrible and ugly! Great job, Erik!" If only he were at his place right now, he would go a couple rounds on the punching bag in kept in his small workout room.

But he wasn't at his place, he was at Christine's…and it was amazing that she hadn't thrown him out. He wouldn't blame her if she had; after all, he was ashamed of his behavior. "Well this is beginning nicely," he grumbled, sarcastically. Erik was thinking about the night before, in fact, he had not stopped thinking about it, even while he laid awake on Christine's couch with Rupert curled up on his chest. He remembered how wonderful it felt to have Christine in his arms, he remembered the way she curled up against him, and he remembered the sleepy way she moaned his name. But most of all, he remembered his declaration of how he was falling hopelessly in love with her…and the vow he had made to the both of them that he was going to do whatever he could, to win her love in return.

"And I can't rely on my 'good looks' to do it," he muttered with great cynicism. No, he would have to pull out all the stops, he would have to become like his own clients, and rely on thoughtfulness, charm, good humor, and pure luck, to win Christine's heart. And so far…he was failing miserably.

Erik shook his head, tired of feeling sorry for himself, and resolved to begin anew, to not focus on the things that he had done wrong. After all, he reminded himself, she was eager to share breakfast with him, so he mustn't have been _that_ bad.

Breakfast. He closed his eyes as he remembered her order and groaned as he realized he had forgotten to ask her how she would like her eggs.

Christine hadn't emerged yet from the bathroom, and Erik wasn't sure whether he should go and knock on the door and politely ask his question, or simply wait until she returned. _I should wait,_ he told himself. But then a large part of him wanted to have the meal completed by the time she emerged, as a nice surprise for her. _Perhaps I can dazzle her with my cooking talents? _He cocked his head in the direction of the bathroom and listened. His main worry was that he didn't want to embarrass her with his question, should she be on the toilet, but it still sounded like the water in the sink was running…perhaps she was washing her face? Erik took a deep breath, a part of him trying to look on the positive side, hoping she would find it considerate of him that he cared to ask, and quietly entered her bedroom and went around the corner that led to her bathroom.

"Christine?" he knocked on the door gently and waited for her to reply.

Christine froze the second she heard his voice. After looking at her reflection, she was in full-on panic mode. Erik looked so good (not to mention he smelled good too!) and it wasn't fair that he presented himself in such a wonderful way for her…and he was stuck with her looking like a slob. Yes, yes, she did have a cold, and she had just woken up, but…well, that was no excuse! She immediately turned on the sink, scrubbed her face clean, brushed her teeth, and attempted to tame her unruly hair, however it was obvious that her hair wasn't going to budge. "I have time for a shower, don't I?" she asked herself, nibbling on her bottom lip. It would take a little time for him to make her breakfast, and she hoped he was making some for himself as well; she didn't want him to leave any time soon. She glanced at her reflection one last time, and chose to take a quick shower. No sooner had she hopped in and was scrubbing shampoo into her hair, she heard a soft knocking on the bathroom door.

"Christine?" he said again through the door, knocking just a little louder.

Oh God! Did he need to use the bathroom? Her shower curtains were sheer; she couldn't let him in! "Um…hang on!" Christine blushed, trying her hardest to find the shower nozzle without opening her soapy eyes.

Erik's brow furrowed as he heard her strained voice. "I'm sorry, I…I don't mean to inconvenience you—"

"It's ok!" Christine interrupted, finding the shower nozzle at last, gasping as she turned it and the water became ice cold, before she finally was able to turn it off. She grabbed her towel and wiped the soap from her eyes, before quickly wrapping the flimsy fabric around her body. "It's alright! I'll be out in a minute and you can use it!"

Erik's brow furrowed. Use it? What on earth did she mean? "Christine, I just wanted to ask—"

She opened the door, clutching the towel tightly to her body, prepared to let him in so he could use the bathroom. "Here you go, sorry about the wet floor—" She didn't look where she was going, and literally bumped into him.

Erik had been momentarily shocked by the brief glimpse of Christine, dripping with water, her hair wet and soapy, and a towel being the only thing that kept her beautiful body covered, but he regained his senses long enough to reach out and grab her arms to keep her from falling backwards after bumping into him.

Christine gasped and nearly let go of her towel to keep herself from falling, but Erik's arms were there, catching her before the floor did, and hauling her up, until she was practically smashed against his chest.

The two of them stood in silence, both staring at each other, neither moving, speaking, blinking, or even breathing, it seemed. Christine swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared up at him, very much aware that his arms were still holding her to him, and that she was getting his shirt completely soaked…while he gazed down at her, very much aware that she was only in a towel, and that he could feel her nearly naked body fully against his.

"I um…I thought you needed—"

"I'm…s-s-sorry, I didn't mean to—"

They both paused as they realized they were talking at the same time. Quickly, and reluctantly, they both released each other, and Christine clutched the towel so tightly to her, that she was sure her knuckles were turning white.

"I…I thought you needed to use the bathroom?" she asked, blushing and stepping aside to allow him entrance.

"Use the bathroom?" Erik asked with confusion, until suddenly it dawned on him. "Oh! Oh, no, I didn't need to—" he could not believe how horrible this was all going. "I'm sorry, I…I had no idea you were in the shower—"

"No!" Christine quickly cut in, hating that she was making him feel awful. He was such a gentleman, how could a woman not fall in love with him? "No, I'm sorry, I…I should have told you…"

Another awkward pause fell between the two of them.

If Christine had told him that she was getting into the shower…

Erik trembled at the thought, and quickly swallowed the lump in his throat, as well as turn his body just slightly, so she couldn't see the obvious "reaction" her announcement would have had on him, let alone the _thought_ of her announcement.

As for Christine, she in truth had a fantasy…which more or less had manifested itself since the day she met Erik, where she was in the shower, her head tilted back as the water ran down her hair…and then she would suddenly feel two large, warm, soap-covered hands, come from behind her, and begin running themselves up and down her body, until she panted with longing to find passionate release—

Christine shook her head, very much aware that she was panting, and that she was standing within a few inches of the very man who filled her fantasies, and that she was practically naked! "I um…I'm sorry, you needed to ask me something?" she asked, trying desperately to regain some composure.

Erik seemed to snap back to reality at Christine's words. "Yes, um…your eggs."

Christine's brow furrowed. "My eggs?"

"Yes," Erik continued, wishing that the black hole would appear just beneath his feet. "How would you like them?"

Christine's face reddened even more. "Oh! Um…scrambled?"

"Scrambled," Erik repeated, nodding his head. "Well…I'll go work on your breakfast…and um…see you when you're finished." He turned then, not waiting for her to reply, completely embarrassed, humiliated, and aroused. _Unbelievable,_ he thought to himself. _What must she think of me?_

Christine bit her lip as he walked away, and heard him fumbling in the kitchen for a frying pan. She stepped back into the bathroom and once more, buried her face into her hands. _I can't believe this is happening to me! Oh God, what must he think of me?_

* * *

"And then I bumped into him, literally…in nothing but a towel!"

"No!" Meg gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth as Christine relayed the story of what took place earlier that day. "And then what?"

Christine groaned and rolled her eyes. "We both apologized, although I could tell he was shocked by my behavior, when all he wanted was to ask the simple question of how I would like my eggs."

Meg bit her lip to keep herself from giggling. "Oh Chris…" she was trying really hard to sound sympathetic; when in truth it was one of the funniest stories she had ever heard.

Christine glared at her friend as a few of the giggles escaped Meg's pretty lips. "It's not funny, Meg," Christine growled, but Meg's giggling didn't cease.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Meg managed to get out between giggles. "I just…I keep picturing it over and over…you nearly slipping, and him c-c-catching you…" she paused to laugh, while Christine just pouted. "Oh, the best part…the best part is just…imagining the look on both your faces!"

Christine's eyes narrowed into thin slits as she glared at her giggling friend. "It's not funny!" she grumbled, before throwing the pillow she held in her hands at Meg's head.

Meg was still giggling, even after the pillow hit her head, but she quickly calmed down and tried to look serious. "Ok, ok, I'm sorry…so what happened after the um…the bumping?"

Christine was still fuming, but her frustration towards her friend melted into embarrassment as she recalled everything that had occurred after the infamous encounter.

"It was horrible. He caught me just before I fell and hit the ground…and just before I let go of my towel to keep from falling," she muttered with a deep blush. "And for one, long, agonizing moment…we were pressed close to one another!"

Meg was still looking amused by the whole situation, however she was also looking slightly confused. "Hang on…you almost fell over from bumping into him…and he caught you, like the good gentleman that he is," she grinned as she said that. "And when he caught you, you were drawn up against him, chest to chest?"

Christine was getting redder and redder by the minute. "Yes!" she groaned, burying her face into her hands. "We were literally a breath apart!"

Meg thought about this for a moment. "Sorry, I guess I'm not understanding what the 'agonizing' part is?"

Christine wished she had the pillow once more, for she would throw it at Meg again. "No, you don't get it!" she growled. "It wasn't agonizing being pressed against him—" No, in truth, she had been completely turned on! She had always speculated that Erik worked out and kept in shape, but when she was pressed against him, she could _feel_ each one of his rippling muscles. She shook her head, knowing that her thoughts had digressed from her point. "No, the agony was the discomfort I saw in his eyes!"

Meg frowned at this. "Discomfort?"

Christine sadly nodded her head. "You said it yourself, Meg, he's a gentleman, and my behavior obviously turned him off!"

"Oh Chris, come on!" Meg groaned and shook her head. "He is _completely_ in to you! I mean, the guy came over here yesterday, risking his own health, just to bring you Thanksgiving dinner _and_ to spend time in your presence!"

That was true, Christine had to admit. "He was just being nice…" Christine mumbled. "I mean, he did work hard, preparing all that food, and he didn't want it to go to waste—" her sentence was interrupted when Meg threw the pillow at her own head.

"Listen to yourself!" Meg gasped, the humor gone from her eyes, replaced by sheer irritation. "You're actually making _excuses_ to explain his actions! Why can't you just accept the fact that maybe…he likes you!?"

Christine blushed deeply. "Meg, I don't—"

"No, no, I refuse to hear your arguments," Meg interrupted, dramatically lifting her hand to cease Christine's sentence. "Erik likes you, this I am sure. I remember the way he kept glancing at you, that one night at the restaurant. I remember how you told me that the two of you spent the whole night of your first date, walking around the city and talking. _And_ I saw the flowers he sent you this past week, and learned that he had called you when they arrived; the guy clearly, Chris, _clearly_…likes you."

Christine bit her lip, unsure how to respond. She knew how she _wanted_ to respond; she wanted to leap across the couch, hug her friend, before jumping up, doing a little happy dance, and begin to frantically look for Erik's phone number. Then she remembered that she didn't have his number and that he was unlisted in the phonebook, and to top it all off…she remembered how the rest of the morning went _after_ the "bumping" incident.

"There's more, isn't there?" Meg asked, her irritation melting away and concern now filling her eyes.

Christine sighed and nodded her head. "After he disappeared to make breakfast, I went back into the bathroom to quickly finish my shower…"

Her legs were shaking; Christine had to grip the walls of her shower to keep her balance while the warm water rinsed out the last of the shampoo from her hair. _God, he felt so good,_ she thought to herself, recalling how wonderful it was to feel his body against hers. Her face grew hot as she recalled the way her body had soaked through his shirt, and how loose her towel had become while pressed against him. _If he had bent his head, and if I had stood on tip toe…_

She trembled with desire at the idea. They hadn't kissed…yet, and every night, when she fell asleep, she kept imagining how it would feel to be kissed by her mysterious masked man. However, she came crashing back to reality as she recalled the hasty way he departed her side after learning how she wanted her eggs. Perhaps he had been disgusted by her appearance? After all, she had—no, she _did_ look horrible. No doubt she still looked it.

_Oh gosh, what if he thinks I was trying to come on to him?_ This was a guy who obviously liked to take things slow. What if he thought that she had slipped on purpose, that she had come out of the bathroom in only a towel, on purpose? What if he thought that she was some sex-crazed seductress, and that she did this sort of thing all the time!? Christine couldn't bear the thought, and she quickly leapt out of the shower, drying herself off, combing her hair, and putting on a clean pair of sweats. She glanced at her reflection before leaving the bathroom and frowned; it was better than how she had looked earlier, but it still wasn't great. The sweats weren't exactly stylish, but they were the only clean and comfortable pieces of clothing that she had on hand, at that moment. Erik would find it even weirder if she emerged, dressed in something fancy, with a full face of make-up on. _He would definitely think I was trying to seduce him then._ _No, this will have to do…_

After exiting the bathroom, Christine tentatively approached the kitchen, where she could smell the wonderful and delicious scent of bacon cooking…and hear the sound of a man swearing. Christine poked her head around the corner and paused as she watched Erik mutter a curse. He had his back to her, and obviously hadn't heard her. She swallowed the rather large lump in her throat as she stared at his bare, yes, _bare_ back.

Erik had removed his shirt, most likely due to her getting the front of it wet. Christine could not help but stare at the muscles in his back, loving the way they moved with every gesture he made. She held her breath as he turned sideways, just slightly, and she caught a glimpse of his muscular chest and lean stomach. Erik _definitely_ worked out!

"Damn it!" Erik cursed again, and Christine jumped just slightly from the deep way he growled.

Erik must have heard her moving, for he quickly turned his head and caught her staring with wide, terrified eyes. He saw her! He _saw_ her! Christine quickly turned away, her hand covering her mouth as she imagined how horrible it must have looked; he had caught her staring at him! Gawking at him like teenager who had never seen a man's naked chest before!

"Christine?"

Oh God, he was calling her name! What should she do? Retreat back into the bathroom? No, that was stupid. Go out there and act like she hadn't seen him half-naked?

"Christine?" he came around the corner to where she was hiding, and Christine let out a small screech in surprise. "S-sorry," Erik apologized, also looking startled from her squeal. "I didn't mean to frighten you—"

"Oh! Oh gosh, I um…no, no you didn't frighten…that is…I um…I just…" she was babbling and felt like such an idiot! "So how is breakfast coming?" _Oh God, just kill me now!_

"I'm almost finished," he told her, his eyes looking at her rather strangely. Christine noticed then that he had put his shirt back on, which only caused her cheeks to darken further; he _had_ caught her staring at him!

"Great!" she replied, forcing a smile on her face and deciding that the best thing to do was pretend that nothing had happened. "It smells wonderful!" she quickly moved past Erik and sat down on the couch, pushing Rupert aside and giving him a dirty look when he meowed at her in protest.

"Well, I hope it tastes as good as it smells," he murmured. "My cooking skills don't seem to be as up to par as they normally are," he confessed, looking somewhat sheepish.

Christine's heart melted at that look. _A guy who goes out grocery shopping for you and who cooks you breakfast…someone please explain to me why this man isn't taken!?_ "Well dinner was delicious, yesterday," Christine murmured, smiling at the memory. "Therefore I have no doubt that this will also be good."

Erik seemed to smile at her words, and within a few minutes, presented her with breakfast. As requested, he had made her bacon and eggs, with a little fruit garnish, and a lovely toasted cinnamon-raisin bagel. Christine couldn't bear to dig her fork into it, it looked so beautiful!

"T-t-thank you," she whispered, holding back the emotional onslaught that threatened to break forth. No man had ever made her breakfast before! And they hadn't even slept together! She noticed he was looking at her, waiting to see how she liked it, and with a deep breath, she cut into the food, thus destroying it's still-beauty, and took a bite. "This is delicious," she murmured in awe, loving the way everything tasted.

"You are more than welcome," Erik whispered, smiling down at her, before sitting in a nearby chair.

"…and then, after I finished my breakfast," Christine concluded, "he took my plate, washed it for me, and then said goodbye."

Meg had that wistful, romantic look on her face, and she let out a happy sigh as Christine finished her story. "And?"

Christine's brow furrowed. "And what?"

Meg groaned and rolled her eyes. "And what happened next!? I mean, surely he didn't just…just…leave, like that! I mean…was there at _least_ a peck on the cheek?"

Christine's face reddened and she looked down at the floor. "Um…actually, that _is_ how it ended. He told me that he had already eaten his breakfast, and…and that he had somewhere he needed to be, and we just said goodbye, then and there."

Meg's confused look didn't lessen. "Wait…wait, you're telling me…that…that, _literally_, he just left after washing your plate and saying goodbye?"

Christine sadly nodded her head, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them.

"There wasn't even a hug? I mean…you've had two dates, two _really_ great dates, and…_nothing?"_

Christine rolled her eyes in frustration. "Yes Meg, for the millionth time, we did NOT kiss, we did NOT hug, we just said goodbye, and that's that!"

Meg didn't get it. Erik liked Christine, she was sure of it! And even if he did have somewhere to be, surely he wouldn't just leave after everything he had done…with just a simple goodbye?

"Anyway, forget about me," Christine sniffled, grabbing a tissue and dabbing at her nose, pretending that it was her cold that was causing her to choke up. "Tell me about your date? You mentioned on the phone that it had gone _unexpectedly_ well?"

Meg gave a small smile, remembering how wonderful her Thanksgiving date with Stephen had gone, but right now, she couldn't get over everything Christine had just told her. She was sure that it wasn't "discomfort" that caused Erik to leave, at least not the sort of discomfort that Christine was thinking. She knew, deep down, that Erik liked her friend—no, she believed that Erik _loved_ her friend…and that Christine had already lost her heart to the mysterious masked man. But the sudden way he left disturbed her.

Christine was strong, much stronger than she could ever be, and Christine had always been there for her whenever love had backfired in her life. But Meg had easily forgotten how painful Christine's past had been, especially when it came to men. _Erik Henri is a good man,_ she told herself. _He's perfect for Christine in every way possible…and I know, deep down, that there is more to this than Christine thinks. I just hope she realizes it…_

* * *

"…and we ended up staying in the hospital cafeteria till two in the morning! They actually had to come by and ask us to leave, because they wanted to close the place up for the evening!" Stephen laughed, a huge smile spread across his face. "And you know what? The food wasn't that bad, I have to say, even for a hospital." He grinned and looked up at Erik, waiting to see his friend's reaction to everything he had just told him. He knew that Erik would be shocked to hear the full story about Stephen's Thanksgiving fiasco, but in the end, it had turned out to be the best Thanksgiving…no, the _best day_, in his whole life. Everything had gone wonderfully, and he truly felt that he and Meg had made a connection. His confidence was soaring so high, that he was even thinking about calling her that evening.

But his smile faded as he noticed that Erik seemed fixated on something…

"Erik?"

Erik's eyes slowly lifted at the sound of his name, and then, suddenly, realization hit him. "Stephen, I um…" he shook his head, trying to regain his thoughts. "Sorry, I um…I…" he winced and lowered his head into his hands.

Stephen's brow furrowed with confusion and worry at Erik's sudden gesture. "Are you alright? Do you not feel well?"

"No, no, it's not that…" _well, not that completely._ "I'm really sorry Stephen, my mind was wandering, and that was rude of me."

Stephen smiled somewhat sheepishly. "It's ok, I—"

"No, it's NOT ok," Erik growled, his hands slamming down hard on his desk, so hard that Stephen jumped. "You hired me to help you win Meg's heart, and here you are, telling me about your day, looking for advice, and I can't seem to stay focused!" he stood up then, and stalked over to one of the windows in his apartment, glaring out at the night sky, self-loathing boiling in his veins.

Stephen stared at Erik's rigid frame, unsure exactly how to respond. Something was obviously bothering his friend, and it was more than just not listening…

"Erik, forgive me, I know this may sound…well, like none of my business, but um…did…did something happen, recently?"

Erik closed his eyes momentarily and leaned his head against the glass. Did something happen recently? Yes, he had made a complete ass of himself, that's what happened! A groan escaped Erik's throat as he recalled the events earlier that day…

He was holding her, she was pressed against him…and she was practically naked! Erik stared down at her beautiful face and felt his body harden with desire as her wet skin soaked his shirt. He could feel her breasts, her nipples, her stomach, and…yes, even lower…

As soon as he asked his question about her eggs, he quickly turned and walked away, rather awkwardly, so as not to show her his obvious arousal. _Good God, she could probably _feel_ me and no doubt think I'm some sick, twisted pervert!_ He stalked into the kitchen and began throwing open cupboards, searching diligently for a frying pan, trying his hardest to stay focused on making her breakfast…so as not to think about her soft, creamy body, dripping with water, pressed against his…

Erik let out a curse, stomping his foot and glaring down his body at the part of him that seemed to refuse to go away.

It was pure agony. He could hear the sound of the shower running, and he groaned as he imagined water rolling down her beautiful, naked form. He tried desperately to drown the sound out, from making more noise than necessary while preparing her breakfast, to even humming some of his favorite operas. Yet it didn't seem to work, and the more he tried to distract himself from thoughts of Christine, the more he continued to mess up her breakfast.

Erik let out a curse as he realized he was burning her eggs, and he cursed again when he smelled her bagel, burning in the toaster from leaving it in too long. Grinding his teeth, Erik removed his shirt and hung it in the coat closet, believing it would dry faster hanging, than on his body, which was sweating with frustration. Several attempts later, Erik had finally managed to make her a decent plate of eggs. He carefully cut some fruit to garnish her plate, and went to check on her bacon.

The water stopped. Erik's head flew up as he realized he heard the water stop, and suddenly a new erotic thought filled his head…

Christine, standing in the bathroom, her body glistening from soap and water, the smell of rose petals and jasmine floating off her skin…bending over to dry her sweet flesh, running the fabric of her towel all over her arms…her breasts…her back...her legs, all the way down to her toes, and then back up…to her thighs…between her thighs…

"AH!" Erik let out a loud curse as he brought his hand down, without looking, onto the hot frying pan. He glared at the pan, and worked hard to save the bacon from burning, before adding it to Christine's plate. _What's wrong with me? Am I no different than those lecherous vermin who gawk at women and strip them with their eyes?_ He looked down at his hand and gently ran it under some water, before turning to wipe it with a clean towel. Thankfully, the burn wasn't too bad, but it still hurt. "Damn it!" he cursed, as one of his fingers screamed with pain from the way he was rubbing it.

But just as suddenly as he had cursed, Erik heard a small gasp, and what sounded like a thump. He turned his head then and his eyes went wide as he caught sight of two blue eyes, gazing back at him, before quickly turning away, revealing a few wet, brown curls, retreating around a corner.

_Oh God, she saw me! She heard me curse and she saw me like _this.

He quickly grabbed hold of his shirt and began to button it up, trying desperately to regain some composure. "Christine?" he called out, hoping his cursing hadn't frightened her. The last thing he wanted was for her to think that he always spoke that way, or that he could become verbally abusive. He tentatively approached the corner she had disappeared around. "Christine?"

"Eeep!" she screeched, jumping in surprise by his sudden appearance. _Great, frighten her on top of that!_ The morning was just not going very well at all…

"S-sorry," he apologized, immediately taking a step back. Could he blame her for being frightened? Some masked freak, appearing out of nowhere, would frighten any woman. "I didn't mean to frighten you—"

"Oh! Oh gosh, I um…no, no you didn't frighten…that is…I um…I just…"

She was trying to be sweet and kind, as always, but it was obvious that he had startled her. _Maybe I should rethink my plans on winning her heart?_ The thought was depressing, but perhaps everything that had happened this morning was God's way of telling him to back off?

"So how is breakfast coming?"

Erik shook his head, attempting to regain his gentlemanly composure, at least long enough to not ruin anything further. "I'm almost finished," he replied, noticing the strange way she seemed to be breathing, but forcing a smile and turning back towards the kitchen. Christine took a seat on the couch, commented politely on how wonderful everything smelled, as he added the final touches to her food and brought it out to her.

She took the plate from him and stared at it for a long moment. "T-t-thank you," she finally murmured, and Erik bit his lip, wondering what he had done wrong. _She did say scrambled eggs, didn't she? Maybe it's the bacon, maybe I over cooked it, or didn't cook it enough…maybe it's the bagel, one half did look awfully brown—_

"This is delicious," Christine murmured, smiling up at him as she took a bite of her breakfast. Erik let out a sigh of relief and smiled down at her.

"You are more than welcome," he whispered, before sitting in a nearby chair. _At least I didn't screw up too much! _

However, another awkward silence seemed to pass between them. Christine asked if he were going to have any breakfast, but the truth of the matter was that right now, Erik didn't trust his stomach to hold anything down, he was so nervous after the way everything had gone this morning! When she finished, he took her plate and quickly washed it for her, while she remained sitting on the couch, her hands playing with the threads of her blanket.

He glanced at her while he washed the dishes, admiring her profile, admiring everything about her. Even in simple sweats, she radiated such beauty, and more than anything, he wanted to feel her in his arms again, he wanted to hold her close to his body, and God knew how badly he wanted to taste her lips…

But right now, after the way everything had gone, he knew that the best thing to do was to leave. _I've overstayed my welcome, obviously. I insulted her several times this morning, I did things without her permission, and on top of that, I've obviously made her feel uncomfortable._ He didn't want to leave, in truth, he loved being by her side, and he loved doing simple, daily things with her. Is this what married life was like? If it were, he knew he would love it.

But now was not the time to think of such things, he told himself. Spending one whole day together was wonderful, but spending two in a row? He didn't want Christine to feel like he was invading her space, and in truth, they were still learning about each other. Were they truly at a comfortable point where they could spend days upon days together? He glanced at her one last time and saw the way she was fidgeting slightly on the couch. _No…not yet, at least._

"I um…I have to go," Erik mumbled, as soon as he finished cleaning the dishes. "I have an appointment…with a friend," he explained. It wasn't a total lie, he had agreed to meet with Stephen earlier in the week on Friday afternoon, to go over how the Thanksgiving date with Meg had gone.

"Oh," Christine murmured, her fidgeting only increasing. "Well…thank you, again, for…for everything," she smiled, looking sweet and polite as she always did in his eyes.

"You're welcome," Erik murmured, bowing his head slightly. Now what? He gazed at her and a million questions ran through his head. _Should I at least shake hands with her? Would a hug be too forward? God, I know what I would love to do, but I can't kiss her now, especially after this morning, she'll think I'm just trying to get her into bed, that that's all I care about!_ "Well…goodbye!" Erik said with a forced smile, before turning and ordering his legs to move away. The second the door to her apartment shut behind him, his hands balled into two, large fists, and he fought every urge to not punch the walls on either side of him. Somehow, he managed to get out of there, without causing any sort of damage to Christine's building, and made it back to his place…with enough time to spare before Stephen stopped by to go _several_ hard-hitting rounds on his punching bag.

"Erik?"

Stephen's voice brought Erik back to reality. "Sorry…" he sighed, turning away from the window to look back at his client…who in truth, seemed like his closest friend at the moment. Or at least like the one man on this planet who could understand what he was going through. "I um…I didn't have a great day, to be honest, Stephen. Hence why I'm spacing out, constantly," he groaned and then shook his head, determined to give Stephen the attention he deserved. "But enough about me. It sounds like your date, despite the mishaps at the beginning went really well!"

Stephen smiled slightly at Erik's words, but the concern in his eyes didn't go away. "Yeah, despite everything earlier, it did go really well," he murmured. "I mean, no one would think that it was possible that it could go well, right?"

Erik nodded his head, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. "If one were there, observing everything that was happening at the time, no," he truthfully agreed.

But Stephen's smile only seemed to grow. "But I think that's what's so great, I mean…everything _did_ go wrong…and yet…it all turned out to be better than either of us expected!"

Erik lifted his head at these words and stared into Stephen's eyes, his brow furrowed with thought as the accountant continued talking.

"I mean…my brother-in-law, not the most tactful person on the planet, embarrassed me in front of her, not to mention said a few things about her that _really_ made my blood boil," he confessed with a snarl. "And then, of course, the food was burning in the kitchen…and while I tried to rescue it, I burnt my hands, _several_ times, fell over, bumped my head, the oven smoked, the water in the apartment came on, which ruined what little good food that I had," he groaned at the memory, but his smile never faltered. "Then she took me to the hospital, and I just about died when the doctor asked if she were my wife!"

Erik's eyebrows, hidden beneath his mask, lifted with interest at Stephen's words. "How did she respond?"

Stephen's smile only grew brighter and brighter. "She said 'no…but I am his girlfriend'!" Suddenly, Stephen was bouncing around the room, throwing punches into the air and laughing joyfully. "Girlfriend! She called herself _my_ girlfriend! Erik, I haven't had a girlfriend since high school!" he grinned, looking at Erik happily. "The most beautiful woman in the world called me…some, some nobody, _her_ boyfriend. And she said it with pride! Can you believe it?"

Erik had heard these sorts of stories in the past, clients who were thrilled and exhilarated by the loving acceptance of the women they were pining for. Yet, no story moved him the way Stephen Dulane's did.

"Yesterday was the happiest day of my life," Stephen murmured, his own eyes turning towards Erik's window and gazing out at the twinkling city, his chest swelling with pride and contentment. "And I owe my thanks to you."

Erik's eyes went wide and he stared back at Stephen with confusion. "Me?"

"Well of course!" Stephen grinned. "I mean, despite everything that had gone wrong, I just remembered your principles, I kept repeating them over and over…and I felt…such confidence, such strength, and I realized…no matter what happens, no matter how bad things may seem…so long as you don't give up and keep trying to show her that you care for her and that you're sincere…she'll see that, she'll feel that! And…even though I had…well, let's be honest, made a complete ass of myself," Stephen chuckled. "She still saw me as someone special…and still wanted to spend her Thanksgiving with me."

Erik was in complete awe at the wisdom spoken by his friend. Awe…and a sudden realization…

"So anyway, I learned that Meg loves the ballet, and I've decided I'm going to take her to the ballet, but as a surprise," Stephen grinned, blushing and looking down at his feet. "Do you think you could help me? I want to get the best seats in the house, she deserves it, and money is no object. But I confess I don't know much about ballet," he murmured with some embarrassment before lifting his eyes. "So I was wondering—" Stephen paused when he realized Erik was no longer standing there…but walking out the door!

* * *

Christine sniffled as she flipped through the channels on her television set. Was it her cold that was getting worse, or simply her depression? Rupert looked up at her with concerned eyes as she reached for another tissue. "It's just my cold," she moaned at the cat, but Rupert wasn't going to be fooled, and continued staring at her.

"Stop that," she grumbled at the cat. "It's not what you think, anyway. I mean, yesterday was wonderful, I loved every bit of it, so I refuse to allow today's awkwardness taint my view of yesterday—"

A loud pounding on her apartment door shook Christine from her thoughts and caused Rupert to leap off the couch and glare, annoyingly, at the door. Who could it be?

"Lass, I know ye're in there!"

Christine rolled her eyes at the angry Scottish voice that belonged to her downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Butler. Normally the woman only banged on her door if she thought Christine was making too much noise…which included dropping a pin.

"Open this door!" the woman bellowed once more, her pounding never ceasing.

Christine groaned and rose from the couch. "Mrs. Butler, my television was not that loud!" Christine shouted back. She was so not in the mood for this…

"Will ye just open the door!?" the woman shouted, her irritation rising with every breath.

Fine, the old woman wanted a fight? Oh she was going to get one! Christine grabbed the door, unlocked it, and opened it so quickly that it banged her wall. "Look, I wasn't—"

Christine froze and all manner of speech abandoned her, when she found herself _not_ staring down at the little woman before her, but at the tall man who stood just behind her, in the black wool coat that Christine knew so well, and with the masked face that she knew even better.

"E-e-erik?" she stuttered in complete shock.

Mrs. Butler grinned, looking very smug and folded her arms across her chest. "There, I got the lass' attention for ye," she grumbled up at the tall masked man. "But that's the last time I help either of ye!" she warned, before turning on her heel and stalking down the hallway.

Christine's face was completely red and she looked down at the floor, still standing in the doorway between the hallway and the apartment. "I um…I d-d-didn't know you were…you were going to come over?"

Erik shook his head, his heartbeat returning to its normal speed, or at least the speed that was considered "normal" when he was around Christine. He had been shaken by her sudden appearance; her anger and frustration towards her shouting neighbor made her eyes look even more brilliant than ever before. "No, I um…I know I should have called," he murmured, his own eyes also falling to the ground. "I just, I wasn't thinking about that, I just…" he took a deep breath and lifted his eyes until they were resting on her face, which was now turned up towards his. "I wanted to see you again…and…I want to apologize."

Christine's brow furrowed deeply. "A-a-apologize?"

Erik nodded his head. "For this morning," he explained. "I…my behavior was extremely improper. I shouldn't have taken your keys without your permission, let alone have spent the night, and—"

"No," Christine interrupted, her face blushing even more, but a smile lifting at the corners of her mouth. "No, I…I'm glad that you did." She loved the thought of Erik being close by, watching over her, taking care of her…

Erik felt his heart lift at her words. "Me too, I must confess," he whispered, his own smile growing as he watched her cheeks flush at his words. But he quickly straightened his back, trying to look serious, for he was nowhere near finished apologizing. "I think, however, that we can both agree, that the most improper thing I did…was leave, the way I did."

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and nibbled on her bottom lip, before finally lifting her eyes to meet his once more. "I…I thought maybe…maybe I had done something wrong—"

"You!?" Erik couldn't believe what she just said. "How…what did you…oh God, Christine, no, no, you did nothing wrong!" he couldn't believe that he had made her feel as if she were at fault! "No, this is your home, and I invaded it—"

"You didn't invade it," Christine shushed. "And besides, you were my guest, and I should have treated you better—"

"But you weren't feeling well," Erik protested. "And you treated me with kindness and respect, and…and I enjoyed every moment in your company."

Christine felt a shiver course down her spine at the way he spoke. His words were sincere, there was no doubt about that, and as she looked up into his eyes, she felt as if she were floating. "Me too," she whispered, before blushing and looking down at her feet once more. "I loved having you here…"

Silence fell between them, but unlike this morning, it wasn't awkward. In fact, it felt very…right.

"I was wondering," Erik spoke first, smiling when she lifted her eyes to meet his once more. "Would you like to see that new show on Broadway with me? I know how much you love musicals, and…well, it's by that English composer who's done many successful shows—"

"I know exactly what you mean!" Christine grinned, her face bright with excitement. "I've heard so many good things about that show, I would love to see it!" she blushed deeply before she added the words, "…with you."

Erik breathed in deeply and smiled. "What day sounds good to you?"

_How about right now?_ Christine knew she couldn't say that, but she didn't want to be parted from him for very long. "Monday?" she nibbled on her lip, wondering if that was too soon? She hoped it wasn't, she prayed that it wasn't…

Erik was somewhat surprised by her answer…for it was exactly what he was hoping she would say. "Monday," he murmured. "That sounds perfect."

Christine grinned, so glad that he shared her feelings.

"Until then," he sighed. "You concentrate on feeling better," he tried to look and sound stern, but he couldn't help but smile; Christine always made him smile.

"Yes sir," Christine giggled, giving a mock salute and then giggling even more. However, her giggles died down somewhat as she gazed up at his lips, finding them so inviting, so perfect looking…

Erik was gazing down at hers as well, and he remembered how close they had been standing earlier that morning, when she was pressed against his body, and how wonderful it had felt to hold her, both then, and the night before.

"Until Monday, my dear Christine," Erik murmured, bending his head just slightly…and brushing his lips across her forehead.

Christine held her breath and closed her eyes as she felt his lips touch her skin. It wasn't the kiss she had been hoping for…but it was one of the most intimate gestures she had ever experienced.

Erik lifted his head away and gazed down at her, fighting every urge to sweep her up and lose himself to the passion she was stirring in his heart. It was killing him…but he wanted to wait just a _little_ longer. He was determined to make Monday spectacular!

"Until Monday, Erik…" she whispered back, before slowly backing away into her apartment, giving him one last smile, and shutting the door.

Erik grinned, feeling ten times better now, than earlier. He was actually whistling as he rounded the corner of the hallway…and came face to face with the prickly Scottish woman from earlier.

"I just want to make this known!" she said sternly, pointing a finger directly into his face. "As much as I complain about her…the lass is a good girl," she growled. "If ye break her heart the way I've seen other men do…"

Erik lifted his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Ma'am, as you can see," he pointed to his mask. "I'm hardly like other men. And a man like myself can't afford to break the hearts of beautiful women, especially a jewel like Christine."

Mrs. Butler seemed satisfied with his answer, and stepped aside so that he could pass. "Ye talk differently from other men too," she added to his retreating back. "Do ye know of that Date Phantom? I've heard so much about him…"

Erik couldn't help but grin as he continued walking. "Let's just say…I am acquainted with the man's work."


	17. Erik Henri's Guide to Kissing

_So I've been updating "Tapestry" like crazy, but I needed a little break, and the idea for this chapter just came to me the other night, so I had to get it down. This is just a cute, funny chapter, in between some longer ones that are coming up. I do hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think!_

* * *

**Summary: **As the ladies prepare for their upcoming dates, Erik gives Stephen some much needed advice, and an unexpected visitor arrives in Meg's office... (for those of you who have seen the film "Hitch", this is the chapter that contains the infamous...kissing lessons...enjoy ;o))

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Erik Henri's Guide to Kissing_**

Christine was feeling ten times better since Friday. She gazed out at the early morning traffic that was clogging up the streets, listening to the typical "New York greeting" that was spoken by cab drivers and pedestrians, and yet…the world just seemed perfect.

"Look at you with your big blue dreamy eyes," Meg giggled from across the table she and Christine were seated at. It had been Meg's idea to go out for breakfast before heading off to work. Christine had awoken that morning feeling so refreshed and rejuvenated, that even upon receiving the 6:30am phone call, she pleasantly agreed to Meg's breakfast idea, and all but floated to the restaurant her friend had suggested. And why was she feeling such blissful happiness? Because for the first time in her entire life, Christine was anticipating Monday…the day that would lead to the evening of her third date with Erik.

"My eyes do not look dreamy," Christine muttered, trying to hide her blush by focusing her attention on her eggs benedict. The food was delicious, but Erik's cooking was way better.

"You should see yourself," Meg grinned, biting her lip to hold back her giggles as Christine gave her a dirty look. She decided to change the subject, and ease up on her friend, just a little. "So, what big plans do you and Erik have for the evening?"

Christine couldn't stop blushing, but a bashful smile soon spread across her face. "We're going to have dinner first, I'm not sure where yet, and then go see that new musical on Broadway; you know, the one by that English composer, that's getting all the rave reviews?"

Meg's eyes went wide, and she nodded her head, feeling very impressed. "Wow, so you both are really making a night of it!" A wicked smile quickly spread across her pretty face. "So…you do have protection for later, right?"

"MEG!" Christine nearly choked on the piece of toast she was eating.

"What?" Meg asked, trying to look innocent, despite the devilish grin that she wore. "It's just a friendly suggestion…"

Christine simply glared at her friend. "First off, we haven't even kissed yet—"

"That will change tonight," Meg grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. Christine's face turned beet red at Meg's words, but deep down, she was thinking the same thing. _God I hope so! I don't know how much longer I can last! If he doesn't kiss me tonight, I may just jump him right then and there!_

"Second," Christine continued, trying to regain composure. "He is a complete gentleman, he would never try anything like that!"

"Who says _he_ has to make the first move?" Meg asked, all too innocently again, but her eyes twinkled as she gazed back at Christine.

Christine was sure her face was on fire; her cheeks were actually hot to the touch! "Meg…" she growled in a warning tone. "Stop your instigating, right now! He's the first decent guy I've gone out with in a _long_ time, and I will not do anything to jeopardize that!" She took her fork and violently stabbed at her eggs. "Besides," she muttered, "I don't think he wants to—"

"Oh come on, Chris!" Meg could not remain silent any longer. "The guy bumped into you and held you against him while you were in nothing but a _towel!"_

Christine was actually hiding her face behind her hands. "Can you please keep your voice down?!" she hissed.

"Then, there was that long, awkward silence between the two of you, before he finally came back to your place later that night to set everything straight," Meg went on, remembering everything that Christine had told her later that weekend. "Trust me, the guy is like a caged tiger! The beast can only be suppressed for so long, and once you give him the signal that it's ok to open the cage door?" she grinned and leaned back in her chair. "Then it's going to be like the Boston Marathon, between your bed sheets."

"_MEG!"_ Christine hissed through clenched teeth, utterly embarrassed by her friend's bluntness; although a part of her was hoping that what Meg said was true. How many times had she awoken in the middle of the night, her body drenched with sweat, from yet another erotic dream filled with her mysterious masked man? Enough to probably label her as a sex addict.

"Well what about you and Stephen?" Christine asked, folding her arms across her chest and giving her friend the questioning eye. She could play this game too!

However, Meg didn't blush, she only smiled, and as Christine had done earlier, turned her gaze towards the crowded streets, a dreamy haze covering her eyes. "All I know is that he's planning something, something secret, but…" she sighed and Christine knew that she could not poke fun; her friend was too happy! "Oh Chris, I…I know that Stephen is…well…" she looked down at her hands which were folded on the table and sighed, feeling somewhat ashamed. "I know that Stephen is not the…well, the 'typical' type of guy that I date."

"You mean he's not a jerk?" Christine muttered, feeling bitter on behalf of her friend.

But Meg only smiled. "Exactly," she grinned, lifting her eyes. "Maybe it's the industry I work in? An industry that's so obsessed with looks and style, that I fell prey to its powers of persuasion? I mean…all my past boyfriends were either male models…or sport stars…and there were even a few musicians, here and there, but…was I all that different from them?"

Christine frowned and reached across the table to grasp her friend's hand. "Meg, how can you ask that? Those jerks used you for their own gain, and then dumped you when they believed they were better than you! There's absolutely no comparison!"

But Meg shook her head. "But I used them too, in a sense. I'm the daughter of a world famous fashion icon, and now the editor-in-chief of one of the most popular magazines in the country! And as such…I believed I could only associate myself with certain people, people that the industry thought appropriate, people that _looked_ the part," she sighed and looked down at her lap. "I work in an industry that's obsessed with looks and style, obsessed with physical and outer appearances…therefore, I never thought about looking beyond 'the cover', so to speak. And because of that…maybe I got what I deserved?"

Christine's hand only squeezed Meg's a little tighter. "You're a good person Meg, with a heart bigger than this entire city. You didn't deserve any of the lies, the humiliations, or the pain that they caused you. You're one of the biggest romantics that I know, always believing in your Prince Charming, that he'll come and find you, atop his white charger, and while I have been cynical about such things…you have always been that beacon of hope to me."

Meg smiled and squeezed Christine's hand right back. "And the fool that I was, I always believed Prince Charming had to _look_ a certain way," she shook her head, feeling like such an idiot for falling prey to vanity. "And it's a shame, I think, a true shame that an industry that obsesses so much over outer beauty, doesn't take the time to learn the importance of inner beauty…and…well…just how it can so brightly outshine the physical appearance."

Christine nodded her head, her mind wandering to a particular masked man. "Or how it can make the physical appear beautiful," she whispered. Christine couldn't deny that she was curious about Erik's face, but she didn't feel comfortable asking him about it. She could only assume that there was something he wanted to keep hidden…and it broke her heart, thinking that such an upstanding, wonderful gentleman once faced harsh prejudice, because of his face.

"Exactly," Meg said, her smile only brightening at hearing Christine's words. "I know that Stephen may not be what the fashion industry would call…well, 'normal'…but you know what I say? Screw 'em!"

Christine actually burst out laughing at Meg's blunt words. Meg grinned, but lifted her head high, giving off an air of firm control. "I mean it, screw 'em! So what if he doesn't look like Tony? Tony may have looked good in a Calvin Klein ad, but as far as he was concerned, _I_ was the accessory on his arm. And looking back, I honestly don't know what I saw in him or any of those other jerks. None of them could even measure up to an inch of the man that Stephen Dulane is," she stated, quite passionately. "In fact…none of them truly cared about me; they never asked me how I was feeling, let alone try to find out how my day had been…they were never truly polite, they could barely hold an intelligent conversation…" Meg rolled her eyes, feeling utterly disgusted that she had wasted so many years on such pigs. "But for the first time…I actually feel that here is a guy who cares about _me_, who wants to get to know _me_, not the editor-in-chief, not the wealthy daughter of a French fashion icon…but _me_, Meg Giry."

Meg leaned back in her seat, a tender smile spreading across her face. "He's such a gentleman Chris…I feel that on these last few dates, I've gotten to know him so much more than half of my boyfriends, who I dated for months or years! And…" she began blushing, but couldn't help but giggle slightly. "I know I've been giving you a hard time, but…I confess, I like the fact that he and I are going slow, in fact, I love it!"

Christine nodded her head. "I know what you mean. It's like, he's actually in this because he wants to get to know you, and because he likes you for who you are…as opposed to simply wanting to get into your pants."

Meg blushed and giggled, but also nodded her head in agreement. "Like I said…I know that he and I have only had two dates so far, but…I really feel like, for the first time, I found _him_, you know? That…I've found Prince Charming."

Christine actually felt tears in her eyes! Meg was the most deserving person Christine had ever known, and she deserved happiness and romance and if Stephen Dulane was that man, then she deserved him! She opened her mouth to respond to Meg's words, but was interrupted by the shrill sound of her friend's cell phone.

Meg frowned and looked down at the phone that was ringing rather loudly, but her eyes widened and her cheeks began glowing as her recognized the number on the caller ID. "It's Stephen!" she gasped, giggling with excitement like a schoolgirl.

"Well, answer it!" Christine grinned, not wanting to keep her friend from hearing the man that Christine could tell…Meg was falling in love with.

Meg took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure to her giddy state, before finally answering the call. "Hello?"

"Hello! Miss Giry? I h-hope I'm not d-disturbing you..."

Meg bit her lip to keep from giggling. She loved how Stephen always formally addressed her, even when she had told him it was all right to call her by her first name.

"Hi, Stephen!" Meg greeted, glancing at Christine and grinning. "I was just thinking about you, actually."

"R-r-r-really?" Stephen gulped. Meg would never tell him this, but she actually found his nervousness sweet and endearing.

"Yes, I was thinking about our next date, actually…"

"Oh…" Stephen cleared his throat before continuing, although it was still obvious that he was extremely nervous. "W-w-well, a-actually, that is why I'm calling. I um…" he paused, as if to take another deep breath. "I um…I was wondering…if um…" he paused a second time and cleared his throat once more. "You see, I have tickets—"

"Tickets?" Meg asked, her curiosity rising. Stephen told her he wanted to plan their next date and surprise her, and now she was beginning to wonder what he had up his sleeve.

"Yes," Stephen answered, knowing that by mentioning the tickets, he had given her a little clue, but he continued. "I was…well, the tickets I have are good f-f-for any night this week, a-a-and I w-wondered what night worked best—"

"How about tonight?" Meg bit her lip and waited, hoping that the long silence was only because Stephen had been momentarily thrown off by her words…not because he had fainted.

"T-t-t-tonight?" Stephen stuttered, somewhat nervously.

Meg couldn't help but grin. "Yes…if that's alright with you?"

"No! I mean, yes, I mean…" Stephen groaned and then took a deep breath. "Tonight would be perfect, Miss Giry."

Meg blushed at the formal way he spoke her name. "Meg, Stephen. And will you meet me at my place? Or shall I meet you?"

"I'll send a car to pick you up at six, Miss Gir—I mean, Meg," Stephen murmured, somewhat bashfully. "We'll have dinner first, and then go…well, you'll see."

Meg grinned, feeling goose bumps spread down her body at his words. "I look forward to it," she murmured, meaning every word. They whispered their goodbyes, before hanging up, and Meg turned to her friend, beaming brightly. "Looks like you're not the only girl who has a night out on the town!" she laughed, before happily throwing her arms up into the air, not caring if people were looking at her strangely.

Christine could only smile, feeling very happy that her friend had found such an upstanding guy. She actually felt a little envious of her friend, simply because she wished she had Meg's confidence. Christine certainly believed that there was _something_ between herself and Erik…she just prayed that she wasn't the only one who believed that!

* * *

Stephen swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he gazed down at the small cell phone he held in his hand. His palms were sweating, as was his brow, and his glasses were beginning to fog up from his heavy breathing. As for his heart, it was beating so fast, he was sure it was going to burst out of his chest!

"H-h-how d-d-did that sound?" he asked, nervously turning his head towards Erik, who was sitting at his desk, examining a web page on his laptop.

"Perfect," Erik murmured, as he rolled the mouse over the web page.

Stephen highly doubted that. "Isn't…I mean…won't trying to find tickets for tonight's performance be…well…a little difficult?"

Erik shook his head, not lifting his eyes once from the computer. "A former client of mine works for a ticket agency, here in New York, and even at the last minute, always finds me a pair of tickets to something in this city."

Stephen felt a little better at hearing that, but he couldn't stop sweating! "How…how many former clients do you have?"

Erik finally lifted his head, his gaze meeting Stephen's. "I've been doing this for…practically ten years, if I think about it. And many of my former clients like to try and help, if they can. They've been there, you see, in the exact situation you're in…and they want to help good men, like you, with winning the heart of the lady you love."

Stephen couldn't deny that he felt better at hearing that. It was kind of nice, knowing that there were other men in this city, who had once been in similar situations, watching out for him.

But that nice thought didn't stop him from sweating, or his heart from beating rapidly. "Erik…"

"Don't worry," Erik muttered, his concentration once more drawn to his laptop. "I will make sure that you and Meg have the perfect seats." He gave the mouse a big click, and then began grinning proudly. "See?" he said, turning the laptop so Stephen could see the seating selection he had made at the New York Ballet's website.

Stephen nodded his head, his eyes wide as he took in the exact location of the seats. "A private box!?" He had told Erik that money would be no object, and he meant it…but he couldn't help wonder how much it would cost him…

"I made sure you got the 'Phantom' discount," Erik winked, before rising from his desk.

Stephen was grateful to hear that, but he had more important things to worry about. "Erik…"

"Now, I'll contact Pete to make sure the limo is there to pick Meg up at exactly six. Now just be aware, Pete, despite his gruff Brooklyn exterior, is a big romantic, which can sometimes means he…goes a little 'overboard', sometimes…" Erik remembered how a past client had arranged for Pete to pick up his dead…and Pete had pulled out all the stops with making sure that the limo was filled to the point of bursting, with all sorts of roses. Thankfully, the man's date loved it!

"Erik…"

"Don't worry, I can be firm with Pete; he usually listens to me. So whatever you want—"

"Erik!"

Erik turned his attention back to Stephen, surprised that the smaller man had shouted. It was then that he got a good look at the accountant, who was sweating so fiercely that spots were starting to show beneath his arms. "Something on your mind?" he cautiously asked.

"It's the _third_ date!" Stephen wailed, before collapsing onto a nearby couch and burying his face in his hands. "The third date…" he repeated. "The third date means—"

"Kissing," Erik concluded. Stephen lifted his eyes and nodded his head, before once more burying his face in his hands. Ever since Stephen had told Erik that he wanted to take Meg to the ballet, Erik threw himself into the project, mainly because he wanted to make up for the fact that he had walked out on Stephen a few nights ago...and because by focusing on Stephen's date, he could push aside his own nervous feelings about _his_ third date with Christine. But those feelings were coming back to him ten fold now…

"What am I going to do?" Stephen moaned, trying desperately to wipe the sweat from his brow. This was the moment he had been dreaming of…and dreading, since he began dating Meg.

"Don't worry about it," Erik murmured, trying to sound comforting, when he himself was thinking the same thing. "Just…just be natural, and—"

"DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT!?" Stephen's eyes were wide and his face kept flashing between ghostly pale, and beet red. "Erik! I haven't kissed a girl since high school, and if memory serves, that did NOT go well!" he flopped back against the couch and closed his eyes, his brow crinkling as if he were in intense pain. "And she's the most beautiful woman in the world…a woman who deserves perfection, and I—"

"Stephen, she said yes to you, didn't she?" Erik interrupted, taking a seat across from his friend.

Stephen opened his eyes, looking slightly confused. "W-w-what?"

"This is your third date," Erik reminded him. "Which means that she said 'yes' to you all those other times, which means she _likes_ being in your company!"

Stephen swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and slowly nodded his head. "T-t-that's true…"

"Yes, it is," Erik went on. "I mean, the two of you spent Thanksgiving in a hospital! And when we spoke, you told me how it was one of the best days of your life, and you certainly got the impression that she enjoyed it too!"

Stephen nodded his head again, his confidence slowly coming back. "Yeah…you're right, she did enjoy herself! It was a good date!"

"Exactly," Erik stated, firmly. "Any woman who agrees to go out with a man after spending their last date in a hospital, likes him. And trust me Stephen, she likes you. So when the time comes for that first kiss? It will be pure magic."

Stephen smiled at his friend's words, but then his face began to pale once more. "But…but one thing I distinctly remember you telling me was that the first kiss tells a woman everything she needs to know about a man! Like, whether she wants to stay with him! W-w-what if I mess it up? I mean…t-t-there are so many ways to kiss, w-w-what is the proper way for the first kiss?"

Erik only grinned and rose to his feet. "Those are all excellent questions, yet unfortunately, the answers vary for each individual."

Stephen's brow furrowed at this, and he also rose from the couch. "Then…then how—"

"The key thing to remember is that women are just as nervous as you when it comes to that first kiss. So the important thing to do, is to make them feel comfortable, and to give them complete control…while at the same time, allowing them to feel as if you are in control, so they don't feel nervous."

Stephen stared at Erik for a long time, before finally murmuring, "I um…I'm s-s-sorry?"

"I know it sounds confusing, but it's actually quite simple," Erik explained. "There are three basic principles when it comes to kissing—"

"There are basic principles for kissing!?" Stephen was growing paler and paler.

"Principle #1," Erik began, ignoring Stephen's interruption, "is body language. More than likely, you'll be at the doorstep of her building, and she'll begin fiddling with her keys, as well as shifting back and forth, from one foot to another, all of which are signs telling you that she's about to go inside…but because she is lingering, it's also a sign that she wants you to make that first move."

Poor Stephen looked more confused than ever.

"Alright," Erik sighed. "New tactic…" he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his own set of keys. "I'll be Meg."

Stephen's eyes widened slightly. "Y-y-you'll be Meg?"

Erik simply nodded his head, before looking directly into Stephen's eyes as he played with the set of keys he was holding. "I had a wonderful time tonight, Stephen, the ballet was beautiful…"

Stephen stared at Erik as if the man had grown a second head. Was he actually serious? "Um…" Stephen felt extremely awkward. "I um…I…I had a w-w-wonderful time too, Miss Giry…?"

"Don't stuff your hands into your pockets," Erik muttered, momentarily reverting back to himself. Stephen quickly obeyed, but looked somewhat helpless in what to do next. "Well…" Erik sighed. "Guess…I'll be going in…"

Stephen's brow furrowed at Erik's words. "I'm sorry…w-who are you being now?"

"MEG!" Erik groaned, a part of him wanting to reach out and slap his newfound friend upside the head. "Ok, ok, moving on," Erik muttered. "_She_ begins fiddling with her keys…" Erik demonstrated by jiggling his own keys. "And Principle #2 when it comes to kissing, is listening. I, _as_ _Meg_," he emphasized, "has just told you that I've had a wonderful time, and now, I'm telling you that I'm about to go inside…so what am I saying? What have you heard in my words?"

Stephen bit his lip. This was turning out to be harder than the SAT's! "W-w-well, according to what you, _as Meg_, said," Stephen deduced, "you're telling me that you're about to leave…"

"Good," Erik nodded his head. "But despite the words I've just said…I'm also lingering…which means…?"

"Which means…that you're expecting something, because if you simply wanted to say goodnight, and go inside…you would have?"

"Exactly!" Erik grinned, glad they were finally getting somewhere. "So if I'm lingering…and I've just told you I'm about to go inside…basically, my body language and my words…are…?"

"Contradictory?"

"KISS, STEPHEN, I WANT YOU TO KISS ME!" Erik practically exploded.

Stephen jumped at Erik's irritated tone. "Y-y-you w-w-want me to kiss you?"

"YES! No, not me, MEG!"

Stephen bit his lip. "I'm really confused now—"

"Look, never mind, we're moving on," Erik broke in, summoning his patience and taking a deep breath before continuing. "Ok…if a woman lingers for any reason at her doorstep, it's because she's hoping that you'll make a move to kiss her, alright?"

Stephen nodded his head, thinking that made sense. "But…but you said that it's about her being in control?"

"Yes, and I'll explain," Erik went on. "See…kissing…how can I put this? It's a team effort," Erik knew that sounded lame, but for guys with little to no experience, it was the best metaphor he could think of. "To put it in baseball terms, you are the starting pitcher, and she is the closer, understand so far?"

Stephen nodded his head. "So…what you're saying is…I…" he bit his lip, hoping he got this right. "I'm…_initiating_ the kiss?"

Erik was beaming. "Yes!" he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Finally, they were _truly_ getting somewhere. "Yes, exactly, you are initiating the kiss, and this moves us into Principle #3. You move close to her—"

"But I don't make her feel like I'm boxing her in," Stephen cut in, grinning as he remembered one of the original basic principles.

"Exactly," Erik grinned back. "You move close, you lean in, about ninety percent of the way…but you allow her to lean in the final ten percent, you allow her to _finalize_ the kiss."

Stephen was now the one beaming, so glad that he understood now. "A-a-and…it works? Every time?" He couldn't help but sound a little nervous still; after all, according to what Erik had told him, a lot was riding on this kiss!

"It's worked for all my clients," Erik stated proudly. "And it will work for you too."

Stephen sure hoped so. He and Meg had made such progress; the last thing he wanted to do was turn her away with a lousy kiss.

"So let's see this in action; show me what you've learned."

The smile Stephen had been wearing disappeared completely, and his face went ghost white as he stared at Erik. "I'm s-s-sorry?"

Erik jiggled the keys he was still holding. "I had a wonderful time at the ballet tonight, Stephen…"

Stephen swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head. "I um…I had a wonderful time too, Miss Giry…"

Erik smiled with approval at the composure his client was carrying. "Well…I guess this is goodnight…"

"Yes…" Stephen swallowed again, before nervously and awkwardly taking a step closer to Erik. Erik carefully watched as Stephen drew closer, nodding his head every so often, a silent way of telling Stephen that so far, he was doing everything correctly. "Goodnight…Meg," Stephen murmured, until he was toe to toe with Erik.

"Good," Erik murmured. "Now…at this point, you lean in—"

Stephen paused and bit his lip. "Should I close my eyes?"

"Closing one's eyes on the first kiss is a _must_," Erik emphasized. "If a woman catches you kissing her with open eyes, she'll think something is wrong with you, plain and simple."

"But…but what if I miss?"

"You won't miss," Erik reassured. "Remember? You're leaning in, but not going the whole one hundred percent; she'll make up the distance, she'll make sure you don't miss."

"But what do I do with my hands? I mean, should I keep them at my sides? Put them behind my back? Should I try to move them around her?" he asked, demonstrating as he put his hands on Erik's shoulders…then realized what he was doing and immediately dropped them.

"That I can't answer for you," Erik sighed, still acting calm and collected, as if this weren't awkward at all. "It differs for every man; sometimes it just feels _right_ to wrap one's arms around her, but other times, it may feel better to keep your hands at your sides…and allow _her_ to put her arms around you."

Stephen nodded his head. "I think…I think I should keep my arms at my sides, unless…unless I feel I should move them…?"

Erik smiled. "I think that's an excellent decision. So, you're leaning in…"

Stephen nodded his head, although it felt awfully strange demonstrating this with a man who was a good foot taller than him, when Meg was actually a few inches shorter. But despite that, Stephen leaned in, just as Erik had instructed, and closed his eyes, tilting his head up to demonstrate…

"Good, good, you're leaning in, but not boxing her in, that's good…" Erik observed. "All right, now don't be nervous, relax your body," Erik advised, noticing how tense Stephen looked. "You're about the kiss the woman you love, keep that in mind," Erik instructed. "She's just in front of you, she's looking at you, her eyes are floating back and forth between your closed eyes and your lips, and by now she's anticipating your kiss, she sees that you've leaned in, and she's drawn to you like a magnet, she's waiting for you to show her how wonderful kissing can be, how wonderful it will be to feel your lips against her own, to—STEPHEN!?"

Stephen had been so caught up in the belief that Meg was standing right before him, that without realizing it, he had leaned in all the way, his lips touching Erik's mouth for a millisecond. And Erik's shout immediately awoke him from his trance, and he leapt away from the masked man, his face a bright shade of red, feeling utterly embarrassed at everything, while Erik was wiping his mouth, muttering under his breath.

"What the hell were you doing!?" Erik muttered, looking at Stephen with wide, exasperated eyes.

"I'm sorry!" Stephen apologized, trying desperately to regain his lost composure. "I was just doing as you said, trying to show you that I—"

"I _said_ that you go _ninety percent _and I go ten!" Erik groaned, shaking his head. "You don't go the whole one hundred percent, Stephen! It breaks Principle #2, invasion of personal space!"

"I'm sorry! I really am sorry!" Stephen apologized again, feeling so embarrassed by everything that had transpired. An awkward silence fell across the room, as Erik collapsed into his desk chair, his fingers longing to remove his mask so that he could rub his temples and try to ease the headache that had quickly developed. Stephen simply stuffed his hands into his pockets and began fidgeting, moving his weight from one leg to the other. And then, he finally lifted his head and asked, in a very quiet voice, "was…um…w-w-was it any good?"

Erik was resting his forehead in the palm of his right hand. He lifted his eyes and considered Stephen's words, before giving a small nod. "It was decent."

* * *

Meg and Christine came into the office, each laughing and grinning, their faces glowing with happiness, despite the usual Monday faces that greeted them. "We should definitely get together later this afternoon," Meg gushed. "Do our hair, our nails, oh! We could even look at one another's clothes!"

Christine laughed, but rolled her eyes. "Nothing that you own would fit me! Besides, have you seriously sunk so low that you need to go through _my_ closet? I thought you had every dress known to humanity?"

"You're right," Meg sighed. "We'll have to go shopping."

Christine playfully groaned and shook her head. "Honestly, Meg, I'm sure—"

"Well, good morning to the both of you," Brian greeted, stepping in front of them. "Christine, you certainly look better since last I saw you—in fact, you both are beaming—"

"Brian, no amount of sarcasm or teasing is going to get to me, today," Christine interrupted, putting her hand up into her friend's face.

"That's right," Meg grinned. "I've ordered Christine to have nothing but a good day, in fact, as your boss, I order the entire office to have nothing but a good day!"

Brian smiled at Meg's happy enthusiasm, however his smile began to quickly fade, something that Christine couldn't help but notice. "Meg," Brian began. "Someone is here to see you—"

"Ah, my public awaits," Meg giggled, linking her arms with Christine and Brian, and leading them towards her office. Then her face immediately went pink as a new thought came to her. "Oh! Oh, it's not Stephen, is it?" she grinned, looking up at Brian with anticipation. She knew how Stephen had visited in the past to bring something over from the accounting office.

"No, I'm afraid it's not Stephen," Brian muttered under his breath. He was trying to keep his voice down the closer and closer they got to Meg's office.

Meg stopped moving, her brow furrowed with confusion. "Then who is it?"

"Miss Giry!" Joanne, Meg's secretary, came rushing up to where she, Christine, and Brian were standing. "Oh, oh, thank goodness you are here, I have been trying to keep her at ease ever since she arrived—"

"She?" Meg asked. She looked down and noticed that her secretary was holding a bottle of expensive French bottled water, a brand that was only made in Paris, and only available to the very elite.

And Meg only knew of one person who insisted on having it available, wherever she went…

"Oh God, no…"

"Marguerite? Has she finally arrived?" rang out a shrill voice, with a heavy French accent. Suddenly, the doors to Meg's office burst open, and a tall, thin woman, in a long black and gold beaded gown, holding a very statuesque pose, stood in the doorway, one black-gloved hand holding one of the doors open, while the other fluffed her shoulder-length black and silver hair, before securing the mink shawl that kept slipping down her shoulders. "Ah! Marguerite, there you are, at last! I have been here all morning, waiting for you! I must say…is this now you run my business? Coming in whenever you please?" she asked, lifting one dark eyebrow as she eyed the woman before her.

Meg let out a long, weary sigh, as she gazed back at the woman before her. "And good morning to you too, Mother."


	18. The Third Date pt 1

**Summary: **Antoinette creates a few problems with her presence, and Christine prepares for her evening out with Erik. And the question on everyone's mind? WILL THEY FINALLY KISS? Read to find out...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_The Third Date (part I)_**

Christine and Brian stood in one of the corners of Meg's office, their arms folded across their chests as they observed the scene before them.

"Really Meg, I mean honestly, when I ran this magazine, people had schedules to keep!" Antoinette sighed, before sweeping her arms outward, in a grand, graceful gesture.

Meg was pacing back and forth across the office with a rather violent speed. "We do keep schedules, Mother," she muttered under her breath. "I am normally in the office before everyone gets here! It just so happened that today, I decided to take Christine out to breakfast—"

"Ah! Christine, _mon cheri_!" Antoinette pushed her way past her daughter, and before Christine knew what was happening, the older woman had her by the shoulders, and was kissing both her cheeks. "It has been so long since last I saw you! How are you and your family?"

Christine tried to smile, although it was proving to be rather hard, since Antoinette had grabbed both sides of her face, and was practically smashing her cheeks together. "Very well, thank you," she managed to get out. "Mom and Dad thank you for the fruit basket you sent them this past Christmas."

A graceful smile lifted at the corners of Antoinette's lips, before she moved on and grasped a hold of Brian's face. "And Brad, _mon cher_…"

"It's um…it's Brian, ma'am."

"Oh! _Oui_, of course, Ryan!"

Brian glanced at Christine, who simply shook her head. It wasn't worth arguing over.

"How are you? I understand from what Meg has told me that your wife is going to have a baby soon?"

At least she got the information right, if not the name. "Yes, our first," Brian smiled, before receiving Antoinette's powerful cheek kisses.

"Mother," Meg growled, trying to get the woman's attention once more. "Will you please answer my question?"

Antoinette lifted a painted eyebrow in her daughter's direction. "Question?"

"YES!" Meg practically shouted, feeling utterly exasperated. "Why are you HERE!?"

Antoinette rolled her eyes, before sweeping across the room and "floating" down into the chair just behind Meg's desk. "_Mon amour_, there is no reason for you to raise your voice to such a level," she softly replied.

Christine and Brian glanced at the sofa they were standing near; it looked like a capable place to seek shelter behind, in case Meg exploded in the next few seconds.

Thankfully, Antoinette spoke again, before their boss' face could grow much redder. "Does a mother need a reason to visit her daughter? You make it sound as if I'm trespassing!"

Meg mumbled something incoherent under her breath.

"But to answer your question," the older woman went on, before taking a sip from the water bottle Joanne had fetched for her. "And much to your surprise, I'm sure," she continued. "The reason for my visit is out of love; I wanted to spend that wonderful American holiday with you…what is it called again? Thank-something…"

"Thanksgiving," Brian and Christine said at the same time.

"Ah! _Oui_! Thanksgiving, that's it. I have come to spend Thanksgiving with you."

Meg stared blankly at her mother before finally finding her voice to respond. "Thanksgiving was last week, Mother. This past Thursday."

Antoinette's brow creased with confusion at her daughter's words. "I missed it?"

"Yes, actually," Meg continued, her frustration not faltering one bit. "And you _never_ came for Thanksgiving in the past, so why now all of sudden?"

Antoinette's dark eyes narrowed at her daughter's question. "You are always coming to spend Christmas with me, in Paris, so I thought it would be nice to come and spend time with you in New York—"

"Oh, enough already, Mother!" Meg interrupted, anger flaring in her eyes. Christine and Brian glanced at each other once more; they were not comfortable witnessing this. "Cut the crap and just say it! You didn't come to New York to see me, you came because of the magazine!"

"Marguerite Emmanuel Giry! I am insulted by—"

"And I am insulted by your unexpected arrival! I'm almost twenty-eight years old, Mother, I am fully capable of looking after myself and running the magazine! Yet you can't help yourself, can you!?" she shouted, throwing her hands up into the air. "I know all about you calling in and checking on our finances, checking and critiquing the numbers constantly! Never mind that the magazine is more popular now than ever before! You can't help yourself, you can't quit, can you?!"

"_I_ started this magazine!" Antoinette growled, rising to her feet and glaring back at her daughter. "_I_ made _New York Chique_ what it is! _I_ created it!"

"Yes, and you passed it all on to _me_," Meg growled back. "It's MY magazine, Mother. I am the editor-in-chief, I run things around here, and damn it, I do a fine job at it!"

Antoinette's eyes narrowed as she looked upon her daughter for a long moment, before finally lifting her chin and murmuring, "yes, yes you do."

Meg opened her mouth to throw out another biting remark…and paused, when she realized her mother had just agreed with her. "W-w-what?"

Antoinette sighed, before taking a long swig from her water bottle, and settling back down onto Meg's desk chair. "_Mon amour_, as much as it may surprise you…I _do_ have complete faith in you. I know that by signing the magazine over to you, I was leaving it in _very_, capable hands."

Meg's look of confusion was only growing more and more. "Then…then why…?"

"I call the office out of habit," Antoinette answered truthfully. "I'm your mother, and despite what you may think, I do love you, and I want to help in any way that I can, and…I want to look out for you—"

"Mother," Meg murmured, reaching across the desk to grasp her mother's hands. "I love you too, and I appreciate all that you have done for me, but if you truly do have faith in me, then you are going to have cut ties entirely—"

"Miss Giry?" Joanne's voice interrupted over the office intercom.

"Yes?"

"_Oui_?"

Meg glared at her mother, and Antoinette smiled somewhat sheepishly. "_Excusez moi_, old habit."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Yes, Joanne?"

"Mr. Dulane is on line one for you?"

Meg's face went ghostly white at the words her secretary just spoke. Christine actually sucked in a breath, causing Brian to look at her strangely. Antoinette also noticed the strange behavior in her daughter and her daughter's friend. "Who is Monsieur Dulane?"

"An accountant!" Christine piped up, before Meg could respond. "Stephen Dulane is an accountant for the magazine."

A relieved smile passed over Meg's features, and she mouthed a silent "thank you" to her friend. She wasn't exactly prepared to explain to her mother that she was dating one of the magazine accountants.

"Ah!" Antoinette smiled. "Well that sounds important! We should take the call, _mon amour._"

Meg's eyes practically burst out of their sockets at her mother's response. "W-w-w-what? No! I'll have him call back—"

"_Merci_, Joanne! We'll take the call!" Antoinette went on, and without warning, hit the button on the phone, and put the call on speaker.

"Mother! No—"

"_Bonjour_, Monsieur Dulane!" Antoinette greeted in a warm tone.

Meg wanted to die.

Christine held her breath, as she listened to the awkward pause on the other end of the phone, before a timid voice finally spoke, saying, "Miss…Miss Giry?"

"I am Antoinette Giry, Marguerite's mother," Antoinette explained, still sounding warm and cheerful.

There was another pause, before Stephen finally spoke again. "Oh…OH! Well, it's very nice to speak with you, Madame," Stephen greeted, which made Antoinette smile all the more.

"_Merci_, Monsieur," she smiled. "Now, I understand that you are an accountant? What do you have to tell us?"

There was another long pause, as if Stephen were trying to think of what to say next. "W-well…our numbers indicate that business is going quite well…" he murmured, unsure exactly what else to say. This wasn't the reason he had called Meg's office.

Meg had her face buried in her hands, and she looked up, feeling such embarrassment. She glanced at Christine, who was gripping Brian's arm so tightly, that poor Brian was wincing with pain. She had to put a stop this.

"Well, this is no news I haven't heard," Antoinette replied. "Do you have something new and important to add, Monsieur? I assumed that you had called because—"

"Mother," Meg interrupted, placing a firm hand down atop her mother's. "Why don't you let me take this call, hmm?"

"Of course, of course," Antoinette smiled, leaning away from the phone and looking up at her daughter with proud, loving eyes.

Meg held back her groan. "No, Mother, I mean…let me take this call, while you wait…outside."

Antoinette's loving smile faded. "Outside?" she asked, her painted brows knitting together into a look of confusion. "Whatever for?"

"I think what Meg is trying to say, ma'am," Christine attempted to reason, "is that she would like to conduct the call in private…"

Antoinette's brow only crinkled more. "Private? Why? It is simply a call with one of the magazine accountants!"

"Mother!" Meg hissed, wishing that a black hole would form beneath her feet and swallow her up. Was her mother not aware that Stephen could hear this entire conversation?

Antoinette eyed her daughter suspiciously. "Is there something that I should know about, Marguerite? Are you keeping something from me?"

Meg's face paled again, and she glanced helplessly at Christine, who looked absolutely clueless on what to do. "I…I um…Mother, please, it's not what you're thinking—"

"Everything is fine, Madame," Stephen's voice finally piped up. "Meaning with the magazine. I was just…calling, you see, to…to confirm plans with Miss Giry about tonight's business dinner."

"Business dinner!?" all three female voices said at the same time. Brian just stood there, feeling extremely out of place.

"Yes!" Stephen explained, trying his hardest to sound cheerful. "Miss Giry and I had arranged a…a business dinner some time ago, for this evening, and…I just…I wanted to…to confirm, when the limo would pick her up."

"Oh, a limo!" Antoinette grinned. "Why that's very kind of you, Monsieur Dulane. Please, where is the dinner being held?"

There was another long pause, and Meg held her breath as she waited for Stephen to speak. She knew that it was meant to be a surprise, but it looked like her mother wasn't going to allow anyone to have any sorts of surprises…other than herself.

"W-w-well," Stephen stuttered slightly. "At um…Alain Ducasse."

Meg's eyes widened at Stephen's words, and she turned her head towards Christine. Alain Ducasse was a very fancy, and rather expensive, French restaurant that food critics hailed as a masterpiece.

"Alain Ducasse!?" Antoinette gasped. "Monsieur, you have impeccable taste! Oh, Marguerite, you are going, _oui_? After all, it is important for the magazine!"

Meg swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, and mutely nodded her head.

"_Magnifique_! Oh, Monsieur Dulane, when will the limo be arriving?"

"Six o' clock," Meg murmured, answering Stephen's question for her mother. "I um…I remembered scheduling the um…the meeting."

Antoinette smiled, before turning her attention back to the phone. "Well, _merci_ for calling, Monsieur Dulane. _Au revoir_!" And without another word, Antoinette hung up the phone. "Well, that sounds exciting, does it not?" she said, turning her attentions back to her daughter. "A business meeting, Marguerite; why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Meg simply stared at the phone, and then looked back at her mother; still amazed and shocked by everything that had transpired.

"_Mon amour_, are you well? You look awfully pale…" Antoinette observed.

"Um…" Meg glanced at her friends, then back at her mother. "I um…I think I just need some coffee…excuse me."

Christine bit her lip as she watched Meg leave the office. She knew that Antoinette could be an overbearing woman, and that she had some very strong opinions when it came to the fashion industry. Was that what Meg meant about how certain people in fashion would look down upon her being with a man like Stephen? Would Antoinette be one of those very people?

"Christine, _mon cheri_, will you escort me downstairs? I think I shall retire to my hotel now." Antoinette announced, fixing her mink wrap.

Christine mutely nodded her head, before muttering into Brian's ear as she moved past him, to call them a cab and get it there, asap.

"I don't understand that girl sometimes," Antoinette sighed, looping her arm through Christine's as she walked. "She can be so timid, and yet I know she has a fiery spirit within her, I've seen it!"

Christine nodded her head, but she chose not to comment. How could she explain to the woman who was walking beside her that the reason for Meg's recent "timidness", was her own mother?

"So, _mon cheri_, how is your love life?"

Christine practically stumbled at Antoinette's question. "W-w-what?"

"Boyfriends, you silly girl, do you have one?" she grinned, squeezing Christine's arm as they walked.

"I um…w-w-well…"

Antoinette chuckled. "Oh don't be shy, _mon cheri_! It's nothing to be ashamed of!"

"I'm not ashamed," Christine defended. "Just…w-w-well…I am, um…I am seeing someone…b-b-but I…I don't know—"

"Say no more," Antoinette interrupted with an understanding smile. "You are saying that you have gone on several dates with this man…but you do not know if you have reached that point in your relationship where you can speak possessively of one another?"

Christine's face burned brightly at the woman's words. She had never thought of phrasing her relationship with Erik in _that_ way before. The idea of speaking…or doing anything, _possessively_ with the tall, dark masked man, sent pleasurable shivers down her spine.

"The answer is simple," Antoinette went on. Christine wasn't even aware she had asked a question! "If you enjoy one another's company…so much, that you forget time and everything else around you…and if you think about this man when you are not together…then it is obvious that you are in love."

Christine's cheeks burned brightly at this, but she could not help but nod her head. Yes, she had to be honest, at least with herself; she was falling head over heels for Erik Henri.

"And the best way to know if he feels the same? His kiss," Antoinette grinned.

Christine's face fell, just slightly, at the woman's words. She and Erik had yet to share that first kiss…

"What is wrong, _mon cheri_? Did I say something bad?" Antoinette asked, concern etched across her dark eyes as she noticed the change in Christine's features. Then, her hand flew to cover her mouth, as she gasped with embarrassment. "Oh! Oh, forgive me, I assumed, of course, that this person was a man."

Christine's eyes widened and she whipped her head around in shock. "W-w-what?"

"Now, despite what the tabloids used to say, I have had _no_ lesbian experiences, but I did know a few models in the industry, and trust me, they say that the dating issues with women, are barely different from those with men, so the same rule applies," Antoinette smiled, before patting a motherly hand on Christine's stunned cheek. "Ah, I think that is my cab pulling up, _oui_?"

* * *

"Ugh!" Meg groaned into the phone. "What am I going to do, Chris? Stephen must hate me!" 

"Stephen doesn't hate you," Christine reassured, trying to balance the phone between her ear and shoulder, as she held up another dress to her body and examined her reflection in the mirror on her wall. "Trust me, Meg; the last thing Stephen feels for you is hate."

"But the way my mother spoke! Oh God, what must he think of me?" Meg's voice was trembling, and Christine actually thought she could hear her friend sniffling back the tears. "He must think I'm ashamed of him, or something horrible like that," Meg moaned.

"Look, when you see him tonight, explain to him that you were shocked by your mother's appearance, heck, tell him that it was _me_ who told your mother he was an accountant, and that she assumed you were going to talk about business, as opposed to going on a date," Christine attempted to reason.

"You're right, you're right," Meg repeated over and over, trying to calm herself down and regain some composure, but under all her worry, she was feeling nothing by white-hot anger. "What in the world is my mother doing in New York!? She never really answered my question, did you notice that?" she grumbled.

"Maybe she's waiting for you to try to figure out why she's here?" Christine suggested, discarding yet another dress to her growing pile of rejects. "My mom does that sometimes. She won't come right out and say what's on her mind, she wants me to _dig_ for it and try to figure it out myself."

"Maybe," Meg sighed. "Hey, thanks again for getting her out of there. I know she can be a handful, but she does like you, and always has. Did she say anything when you escorted her downstairs?"

"Oh, you mean other than assuming that I'm a lesbian?" Christine sarcastically grumbled.

Meg gasped. "She didn't!"

"Oh she did," Christine groaned, and then frowned when she heard the earpiece of her phone fill with muffled laughter. "It's not funny…at least not _that_ funny."

Meg's laughter couldn't be contained. "I'm s-s-sorry!" she giggled, trying to stop. "It's just…y-you know Mother; a single woman c-c-couldn't p-possibly _choose_ to be s-single…"

"Ha, ha," Christine grumbled.

Meg finally was able to calm herself down. "Anyway, have you decided what you're going to wear tonight?"

Christine sighed and looked at her pile of dresses with disdain. "No. I mean, I know we're going to the theater afterwards, but what about dinner? Should I wear something fancy? Something a little more casual? Something—"

"Whatever you wear, make sure it's easy to take off," Meg teased.

"Will you STOP with the sex stuff!?"

Meg just laughed.

"I'm going to hang up now, because like someone else I know…I have a date to get ready for!" Christine grumbled in exasperation.

"Oh I wish we could have gotten together earlier today, but with Mother in town—"

"Don't worry about it," Christine reassured. "I'll call you later tonight, to let you know how it went, ok?"

Meg let out another wicked giggle. "Better make it tomorrow…in case someone gets tied up…_literally_."

"Meg…" Christine warned.

"What? I was talking about _my_ date," she giggled, before wishing Christine the best of luck, and hanging up the phone.

Christine glared at the phone she now held, before placing it back down on the receiver. She took in a deep breath and gazed one more time at her reflection. "Don't let Meg's words get to you," she muttered to herself as she began to go through the pile of discarded dresses. "You are going to go out and have a wonderful time with Erik, and…all going well…" she took a deep breath. "He'll kiss you…" _Oh God, please!_

She wanted to be kissed by him so badly, she had been thinking of nothing else! The other night, she awoke from yet another erotic dream, where she was lying on her couch, watching television, when she began to feel something tickling her toes. She thought it was Rupert, her cat, but the feeling soon became a caress…one that spread from her toes, up her legs…massaging the skin along her thighs…and higher…and higher…

"Get a hold of yourself!" Christine hissed, placing a calming hand against her chest. Oh how she wanted him to kiss her, every time she closed her eyes she envisioned Erik's handsome masked face, leaning in, brushing his lips against hers.

Sometimes her fantasy was gentle; Erik tentatively holding her face in his hands, while his lips trailed along hers, leaving feather-soft kisses that had her longing for more…

Other times her fantasy was not so gentle; Erik grabbing her about the waist, and pulling her body up tight against his, before overpowering her lips with the heat of his own, his tongue ravishing her mouth, as his lips gently bit her lower lip, causing her to gasp and cry out for more…

"What am I even thinking!?" Christine chastised herself, before collapsing down upon her bed, covering her face in her hands.

Rupert, noticing her distress, jumped onto the bed, and placed a gentle paw on her stomach. Christine smiled at the cat's kind gesture, before reaching out and stroking his head. "Seriously," she muttered to the feline. "You know how long it's been since I've gone on a date…and since I've brought a man home," she muttered somewhat bashfully. "I…I don't even know if I can kiss? Ok, I know, that sounds dumb, anyone _can_ kiss, but…you know what I mean, right?"

Rupert stared at her, before giving her a simple "meow."

"Yeah, thanks, you're a lot of help," she grumbled, before finally lifting herself up off the bed. "I just…" she sighed, before gazing once more at the cat that was looking up at her, attentively. "I really like him, Rupe, and…the last thing I want to do is scare him away with a bad kiss."

Rupert seemed to be giving her a look that told her just how silly that thought was.

"I can't believe I'm having a conversation with my cat," Christine groaned, before picking up several dresses and placing them back inside her closet. "And about men, of all things."

"_He is __completely__ in to you!" _Meg's voice rang clear inside her head. _"Why can't you just accept the fact that maybe…he likes you!?"_

A deep blush fell across Christine's face as she remembered her conversation with Meg that morning at the restaurant, how Meg compared Erik to a "caged tiger". She also recalled the other incidents when she and Erik were walking together, the way they paused and looked at each other, and even leaned in to each other…and then, there was of course, the morning after Thanksgiving, when he had held her for a brief moment in his arms…and in nothing but a towel…

Was it her imagination? No…she was _sure_ she felt electric shocks in all those moments.

"Stop being such a baby!" Christine muttered to herself, before picking up the red dress that she had worn on their first date. Christine had to admit…she really liked the way she looked in that dress. She held it up to her reflection and admired it for a moment. Yes, she had worn it already on a date, but…Erik didn't strike her as a guy who would care how many times she wore a particular dress on a date; just as Meg had mentioned how for the first time, with Stephen, she truly felt that he was a man who was with her because he cared about _her_, so did Christine also feel about Erik.

"_Who says __he__ has to make the first move?"_

Meg had never spoken truer words. Didn't "The Happy Single" always advise her readers to not wait around for life to happen? That they had to go out and experience life? Well…the same was true for dating. "Look out, Erik Henri," Christine stated boldly, blushing and smiling the whole while, as she gazed back at her reflection. "You may not know it, yet…but I'm going to see to it that you fall for me, just as hard as I've fallen for you."

* * *

"Remember…lean in, but don't overcrowd her. Watch her body language…if she lingers, that means she wants you to kiss her…to kiss her…kiss…her…" 

Erik swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, and tried very hard to stop his right leg from twitching.

"Nice mantra," the cab driver chuckled. "Big date tonight?"

Erik glanced up at the driver who was looking at him through the rearview mirror. "You have no idea," Erik muttered, feeling his breath become even more ragged as the driver turned the corner…and approached Christine's apartment building.

It was beginning. Date #3 was beginning, right now, at this moment. And Erik never felt more terrified in his entire life!

"Go get her, buddy!" the driver grinned.

Erik gave the driver a small smile, before he finally summoned the will to exit the cab, and walk towards her building. One would think that by the third date, this would be ten times easier; Erik was quickly learning that it wasn't. He only hoped that Stephen was having better luck than he was, at the moment. Last time he spoke to his friend, Stephen muttered something about a "business dinner", but there wasn't enough time for the accountant to elaborate.

After helping Stephen secure his tickets at the ballet, and the brief, but awkward lesson in kissing, Erik had spent the rest of his day preparing for the evening. He had called his former client at the ticket office several times, just to make sure that he had the tickets for the theater, and then he called the box office at the theater twice, just to make sure that his seats hadn't been bumped! Dinner was about the only thing he could depend on for the evening…and Erik was extremely nervous about that, as well.

"Well, well, well…if it isn't the masked stranger who talks funny," mumbled the old Scottish woman, whom Erik had met the other night. She was leaving the building just as he was approaching, with several small, yappy dogs on leashes.

"Good evening to you too, Mrs. Butler," Erik murmured, remembering the woman's name.

"The lass is waiting for ye…she's been standing around in that hallway for God knows how long," the old lady mumbled, looking over her shoulder.

Erik felt the color drain from his face, although no one would truly be able to know, thanks to his mask. She was waiting downstairs for him again? He quickly glanced at his watch, afraid that he had arrived late, but in truth, he was right on time.

"Your escort is here, lass!" Mrs. Butler shouted, although it was loud enough for the entire building to hear.

"Thanks," Christine muttered, her eyes sending daggers to the old woman's back, before she lifted them to Erik's, and smiled warmly up at him.

Erik had a sudden feeling of déjà vu; she was wearing that stunning red gown that she had worn on their first date. He had dreams about her in that dress…and even more about her without it…

"I don't want to come home after walking my dogs to hear ye making a bunch of noise, ye understand!?" Mrs. Butler barked, glaring at both of them.

Both Christine and Erik's faces flushed as they took in the old woman's meaning.

Glad that she had made her point, she pushed her way past Erik, pulling her yapping dogs behind her. Christine continued glaring at the disappearing figure of the old woman. "And she says _I'm_ the noisy one."

Erik couldn't help but chuckle. "It's amazing she can hear anything over those dogs." He looked down at her and felt warmth flood through him as he gazed into her beautiful eyes. "It's a chilly night," he confessed. "Here, let me help you."

Christine blushed and smiled, allowing Erik to help her put on her coat. She actually had purposely come down stairs without putting it on, with hopes that he would offer. It was really an excuse to feel his body close to hers…and his breath hit the back of her neck. "Thank you," she whispered, holding her breath as she felt the tips of his fingers gently brush the skin of her shoulders, as her arms slipped through the coat sleeves.

Erik knew his breathing was coming in ragged, but he couldn't help himself, he was standing so close to her, her back only a few inches away from him, and she just seemed to be the perfect fit against his chest. He remembered how good it felt to hold her, as he had done that night in her apartment. Perhaps tonight he would hold her again? He hoped so; his arms had been aching since that day…

"My pleasure," he whispered, meaning every word. Christine slowly turned and faced him, the two of them still standing so close, truly a breath apart from the other.

And while neither of them would admit it, they both were thinking the same thing: _if I were bolder, I would say, 'screw dinner! Let's stay in.'_

"Ready?" he asked, clearing his throat, and his head, before taking a deep breath and offering her his arm.

Christine also quickly recovered from her momentary stupor, and smiled as she laced her arm through his, loving the polite gesture that she had come to think of as uniquely his. "Very," she happily replied.

Another electric shock went through them when her arm entwined around his. There also seemed to be a magnetic pull; Erik wanted nothing more than to encircle her within his arms and lose himself in her kiss…

But his nervousness held him back, and somehow, he was able to manage walking to the cab, and opening the door.

A gasp escaped Christine's throat, as she saw, lying on the seat where she was to sit, a beautiful bouquet of white roses. "Oh Erik…" she smiled, and quickly turned around and lifted herself up onto her tip toes, to brush her lips across his masked cheek. "Thank you!" she grinned, before lovingly and tenderly clasping the bouquet to her body, as she climbed inside the car.

The driver had been watching the whole scene, and he grinned up at Erik, before winking.

Burning brightly beneath his mask, Erik held onto the cab as he walked around it, not trusting his legs entirely on his own, and climbed inside.

Christine's smile was dazzling as she gazed back and forth between her roses and Erik's masked face. "They're beautiful, truly," Christine grinned, as she tenderly ran her fingers over one of the soft petals.

_They pale in comparison to the true rose_, Erik thought as he gazed at her. Then, he was thrown off guard entirely, when he felt Christine reach up and stroke one of his masked cheeks!

"Sorry, I think I got some lipstick on you…" she explained, as her fingers rubbed the side of his face where she had kissed him.

Erik was in both heaven…and hell…as he felt her fingers run over the mask. It was heavenly, imagining her soft fingers, running over the skin beneath the mask, to feel that softness against the roughness of his cheek. Truly, he swore he could feel her fingers through the mask! But he was also in hell as he held his breath with each stroke; if she weren't careful, she could, by mistake, dislodge his mask…and all too soon, the dream would come to an end and she would see what truly lay beneath.

_But Christine doesn't strike me as the sort of woman who would turn away at the sight of my face,_ he thought to himself.

But then the negative part of his brain responded. _Yeah, but that's assuming she's used to seeing a rotting corpse on a daily basis…_

"There," Christine murmured, satisfied that she had rubbed all the lipstick off. Erik realized that he missed the touch of her fingers very much…and would be willing to go through those hellish worries anytime. "So, are you going to give me a hint as to where we're going for dinner?" she grinned. She wondered if they were going back to that Italian bistro he had taken her to last time. She really adored Mia.

Erik quickly regained the ability to speak…and think. "Well, I recall how you told me that you do enjoy Middle Eastern cuisine…"

"Oh!" Christine grinned. "It's been a long time since I had Middle Eastern, and I must confess, I have been craving some recently."

Erik smiled, although he was grateful for the darkness inside the cab, which shadowed the tension in his eyes. It wasn't just _any_ Middle Eastern restaurant they were going to…

The cab pulled up to the location Erik had given the driver, just before he went to fetch Christine. Christine smiled as she looked out at the small, intimate restaurant, twinkling with several white Christmas lights, and the doorway adorned by two large, Persian looking vases. Before she had the chance to turn to Erik and ask him about the place…a man came bursting out the doorway and rushing up to the cab, and flung open the door, leaning in and grinning at the surprised pair. "Welcome to my restaurant!" Nadir happily greeted.

* * *

The restaurant was filled with the lovely sound of Christine's laughter, as Nadir's children entertained her with music, jokes, and other talents. Nadir smiled as he watched the sight from the bar he stood behind, before reaching out and poking Erik in the arm. "She's perfect for you," he grinned with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Erik swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and mumbled a "thank you" to his uncle. He had only agreed to come to his uncle's restaurant because Nadir would not stop bugging him about bringing Christine. Ever since Thanksgiving, when he had rushed out to the tiny grocery store that was connected to the restaurant, Nadir had been pestering him to bring Christine by sometime. He had assumed that by doing this, it would appease his uncle, and stop him from nagging him, which was rather surprising, since Nadir never nagged him about anything before!

Yet Erik was not prepared for his uncle to go all out, and close the restaurant down to _any other customers!_ He and Christine had the whole place to themselves, yet it felt anything but private. All of his cousins, plus the sisters of his aunt, and several close friends of his uncle, were there, each smiling and gazing upon him and Christine, as if they were two new commodities at a store.

"I mean it!" Nadir hissed into his nephew's ear. "Marry her as soon as you can! Propose to her tonight!"

"Will you stop it!" Erik hissed back, once more feeling grateful for his mask in covering up his obvious embarrassment. "This is our third date! I'm not going to propose marriage." Although he could not deny that a part of him was sorely tempted…

"Nadir, leave the boy alone," muttered Hagar, Nadir's wife, who approached the bar and lay a reassuring hand on Erik's shoulder. "I think she's absolutely charming, Erik," Hagar grinned, smiling over her shoulder at Christine as she let out another loud laugh at something one of the children said. "And very, very pretty!"

"She's much more beautiful than you described," Nadir murmured, agreeing with his wife on all counts. "But it's not superficial, you know? This city is littered with millions of 'beautiful' women, but she is one who radiates it throughout…" he glanced at Erik, who was gazing upon Christine with deep tenderness. It was obvious to him that his nephew was in love. "And she's very good with children," Nadir murmured. "She'll make an excellent mother…"

"Alright, that's enough," Erik muttered, pushing himself away from the bar. "If you only called me over here in the middle of my dinner to try to embarrass me—"

"Embarrass you!?" Nadir looked hurt and offended.

Hagar rolled her eyes. "You may mean well, darling, but that is what you are doing," she swatted him across the shoulder. "Let Erik return to his meal with his lovely date."

Erik smiled at his uncle's wife; Hagar was always the more reasonable one of the two.

"I'm not trying to embarrass you," Nadir grumbled, reaching out and gripping his nephew's arm before Erik could get up and leave. "I just…" he sighed and looked down for a moment, before lifting his eyes once more. "Your mother and father loved you very much, Erik…you know that."

Erik was somewhat surprised by Nadir's words, but nodded his head. Even though he had been born looking as he did, not once did he ever feel resentment from either of his parents, even when it was discovered they could not have any more children, not once did his mother or father treat him in a way that was not loving. And the same was true with his grandparents and all his aunts and uncles and cousins; he was an equal in their eyes, and he truly believed that was due to the love his mother and father showed him.

"And…I know that their greatest wish for you…was to know the same sort of happiness they felt with each other," Nadir continued, pausing now and then to control his emotions. He always felt sad when he thought about his sister. "I know it hasn't been easy for you, Erik, with women I mean, and to tell you the truth, I haven't seen you this…well, this happy, since…well, since you were a child!"

Hagar, who was standing nearby, simply nodded her head in agreement.

"Like your parents, I too, want to see you happy," Nadir smiled, squeezing Erik's shoulder affectionately. "And…based on everything I have witnessed tonight…it's very obvious that _she_ will make you very, very happy."

Erik smiled and reached up to clasp his uncle's shoulder, and squeezed it back. The man had practically become a second father to him, after the death of his parents. If not for his uncle, Erik may never have been able to come to America, which meant…he may never have been able to meet Christine Davis. "Well, let me reassure you," Erik murmured, gazing into Nadir's dark eyes. "She…she does make me happy," Erik confessed, a bashful smile playing at the corner of his lips. "And…I want to make her happy. And by some miracle, if she will have me, I will do everything in my power to see that she and I can experience _at least_ some of that happiness that my mother and father had."

Nadir smiled, and then leaned in to whisper, "so you'll propose to her tonight, yes?"

"Nadir!" both Erik and Hagar growled, before Erik finally tore himself away from the bar, and headed back to his table, where Christine was smiling and giggling.

Christine grinned up at him, happy to see him returned. "Your cousins are a hoot!" she laughed. "Especially that little one, Cyrus?" she grinned at the boy who waved at her from across the restaurant, who was now standing beside his mother. "He's going to become the next great comedian."

Erik smiled in the direction his cousins had gone, before turning his attentions back on Christine. "Sorry about that, I mean, leaving—"

"Oh it's alright," Christine reassured, as she dug her fork into her food. "Well, I mean, it's not alright that you were gone, I did miss you, but then I always miss you when you're away…" she had been rambling, and she blushed deeply as she realized the words that had tumbled out. "I'm just saying that I understand that your uncle wanted to speak with you," she explained, before quickly concentrating, perhaps a little well, on the food before her.

Erik gazed at her, feeling his heart lift slightly at her words. She had _missed_ him.

"This place is wonderful," Christine continued to gush, mainly because her cheeks were burning at her most recent revelation. "You seem to know all the best restaurants in New York."

Erik smiled, then, feeling some newfound confidence, leaned in and whispered, "Perhaps you'll let me take you to all of them one day?"

Christine felt a distinct shiver course through her body at the sexy way Erik whispered in her ear. She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, and said, with all honesty, "I would like that…a lot."

For a moment, the two were lost, staring into each other's eyes, and that magnetic pull that Erik had been feeling earlier, began to slowly draw him closer to Christine. She seemed to be feeling it too, for she was also leaning in…closer…closer…

"ERIK!"

Both Christine and Erik jumped at the sound of Hagar's distressed voice, and nearly leapt away from each other. The woman came rushing over to them, pointing at a clock, just above the bar. "It's a quarter till 8! You'll be late for the theater!"

"Oh God!" Christine gasped, not realizing how quickly time had past. "Do you think we'll make it?"

"I called a taxi!" Nadir answered. "It will be here in less than 2 minutes."

"Thank you," Erik answered, as he helped Christine into her coat.

"Yes, it was all very delicious!" Christine agreed, smiling at Hagar, and the whole of Nadir's family who were standing around the bar. "Thank you all for a wonderful evening!"

"You are most welcome," Hagar smiled, before linking arms with her husband who joined her by her side. "And do come again! We enjoyed meeting you."

Christine smiled back, feeling genuine warmth radiating from Erik's family, before following her masked date outside, when they heard a cab pull up and honk for them. After they both climbed into the cab, Christine smiled and waved back at the family who were all standing around the restaurant entrance and waving at their retreating taxi. Erik also waved, although his gaze was locked on Christine. Nadir's words began to wash over him, and he began thinking about how this extraordinary woman seemed to fit in so well with his family.

"Thank you for taking me there," Christine murmured, as she turned and smiled up at Erik. "Your aunt and uncle are wonderful cooks."

Erik smiled back and chuckled softly. "I'll be sure to pass that news onto Nadir; he often thinks that the 'restaurant gene' passed over him, from my grandparents."

Christine frowned at this piece of news. "Really? Well, he's wrong about that, I thought the food was excellent…although I have to admit, I was surprised to see that we were the only people there; is that typical for a Monday night?"

Erik forced a smile, glad that she could not see his blush. "No…not really."

"Well, I am definitely telling other people about that place," she sighed with a smile, while cradling her roses on her lap. "Did you have a nice conversation with your uncle?"

Erik felt his cheeks burn even more beneath his mask, but as he gazed into her eyes, he felt his heartbeat increase and his hopes rise. "It was a very pleasant conversation, indeed," he whispered, meaning every word of it.

* * *

"BRAVO! BRAVO!" shouted the audience, as the actors returned to the stage for their curtain call. The entire theater was standing and cheering as the leads stepped forward and lead the whole company in a graceful bow.

Erik and Christine were also standing and clapping, however the two of them seemed to be lost, in their own nervous worlds.

The evening at the theater was proving to be one of many surprises for them both. For Christine, one of those surprises was that somehow, Erik had secured them their own, private box! Christine had only gone to a few Broadway shows in her life, and she usually ended up sitting in the "nose bleed section" at the back, and had to bring her own binoculars to see that the performing "dots" on stage, were actually people. How did he do it? It must have cost him a fortune! Perhaps she should have gone into opera, as opposed to journalism?

However, the biggest surprise was the actual show that they had just seen. All either of them knew about it was that it was being hailed by critics as a masterpiece of musical theater, and that it was created by that very famous English composer. The subject matter, however, left them both, somewhat shaken…

"Wow…" Christine murmured, as she and Erik quietly exited the theater. "I heard that it was good, I just…I didn't expect it to be _that_ good, you know?"

"Indeed," Erik murmured, however he was feeling extremely self-conscious. It was bad enough that he was already a ball of nerves, due to the very real understanding that this was their third date…but now, as they stood outside, waiting for a cab, Erik was sure that people were staring at him, probably thinking that he was some publicity stunt.

"What…what did you think of it, over all?" Christine asked, wrapping her arms around her body.

Erik swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. "I…well…I thought it was…very romantic, very…very passionate," he went on, feeling even more awkward as several people passed them, each glancing at him before turning to one another and whispering.

"I agree," Christine murmured, looking over his shoulder and noticing the people standing nearby. Without saying anything, she wrapped her arm around Erik's, and gently squeezed it. "The music was beautiful, and the acting superb, but…I didn't care for the ending."

Erik was grateful for the feeling of her arm; it actually helped him calm down, amazingly. "You didn't like the way it ended?" he asked.

Christine shook her head. "No, because to me it was obvious that she was in love with the other guy."

Erik couldn't help but chuckle. "But if she were in love with him…then why did she choose the nobleman? After all, the nobleman was quite handsome, whereas the girl's tutor was old and ugly—"

"He wasn't old or ugly," Christine defended. "At least I didn't think he was."

Erik looked down at her, and felt his heart lift slightly. "What _did_ you think?"

Christine felt as if a spotlight were shining down on her, and swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. "I…w-well…I…" she took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. "I think that when you love someone, you see past what the world calls 'imperfections'; that those imperfections to you don't exist, and instead, you simply see beauty."

Erik took a step closer. "Go on, please…"

Christine swallowed and gazed up at him, feeling as if the world around them had stopped spinning. "All I'm saying is…t-that in my mind…she was better suited for her tutor, because…because he inspired her, the way no other man could, and he understood her, the way no other man could. And…if you noticed the way they kissed…" she paused, realizing that they were only a breath apart. "Anyone could see…that they were in love."

"HEY!"

Christine and Erik jumped once more, as they realized someone was shouting at them. "You need a cab or what?" asked a rather rude driver, who had pulled up in front of them.

Erik growled, before opening the door to allow Christine in. Throughout the ride back to Christine's apartment, the two of them sat in silence, each lost once more, in their own, nervous thoughts.

This was the moment, the moment they had both been waiting for, for a very, very long time.

_Remember…lean in, but don't overcrowd her. Watch her body language…if she lingers, that means she wants you to kiss her…to kiss her…_kiss…her_…_

Christine was gazing out her window, trying to keep herself calm, one hand on her lap, holding her roses in place, while the other braced itself on the taxi seat. She closed her eyes briefly, as if attempting to meditate…and then felt her breath catch in her throat, as something large and warm, gently run over the back of her hand…before carefully…lacing her fingers through his.

She turned her head then, and found Erik gazing back at her, his fingers cradling hers as if they were precious jewels. He had been wanting to hold her hand all night, especially during the musical, but had lost his nerve each time. Now, after Christine's bold declaration, he too felt bold…and very determined.

The cab reached Christine's apartment, and the two of them climbed out, reluctantly letting go of each other's hands. Neither of them spoke, until the taxi had pulled away, and they were standing just in front of the door to her building.

Christine was fiddling with her keys, nibbling her bottom lip, and nervously gazing at the ground before her. Should she say something? Should she initiate something? What should she do!?

"Christine?"

God, his voice sounded heavenly, a rich, deep baritone, with a hint of tenor. "Yes?"

Erik took another step towards her, and Christine held her breath, as she felt his hand rise…and gently brush away a fallen brown curl from her cheek. "When you were telling me about the musical…were you telling me what _you_ would do, if you were in her place?"

Christine was lost in his eyes, and she held her breath as she realized Erik was slowly leaning in, his eyes moving from hers…to her lips. "Yes…" she whispered, her own eyes falling to his lips. "And…if you were _him_…what would you do?"

"What I've wanted to do since the day I met you…" he murmured, his lips only a breath away. "And what I'm about to do now…"

Christine moaned and leaned in to fill in the space, and immediately…an electric shock went through them both, as at last…their lips touched.


	19. The Third Date pt 2

**Summary: **Meg and Stephen reveal what happened on their date, but not before things begin to get hot and heavy for Erik and Christine_...(note that the rating is going from "T" to "M"!)_

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_The Third Date (part II)_**

It shocked them both, the intensity of the kiss. It was gentle and slow, but it was still shocking! After all, it had been quite a long time since either of them had experienced a kiss…but when their lips touched, by God, it seemed as if the two of them had never known what kissing was, until now…

Christine moaned, and opened her mouth just slightly, praying that Erik would take the hint, and a happy whimper escaped her throat as thankfully, he did. His kiss was everything she had been dreaming of, and more! Her arms instinctively moved to entwine about his neck, drawing him closer, wanting to deepen the kiss even more and more.

Erik took her invitation, his tongue sliding in between her lips, and he gasped from the sudden, simple pleasure, of feeling her hands move around him, and feeling her tongue softly and eagerly respond. He hadn't kissed a woman in nearly ten years! And yet with Christine, it seemed to just come so naturally. He relished the feeling of her arms around his neck, and her fingers in his hair, and he couldn't help himself, he too moved his own hands, first to hold and cup her face, then down her body, until he had them wrapped around her waist, pulling her in even closer.

The kiss was deepening…and growing more and more passionate. Their breathing was becoming ragged, as they both could not stop, in fact, they were both becoming extremely heated. "Erik…" Christine moaned against his mouth, her lips moving down from his, until they were against his throat, leaving searing kisses along his skin.

Erik's eyes drifted shut, and he groaned at the pleasured feeling of her lips on his skin, amazed at the passion this woman contained! And it wasn't just any passion…it was passion for _him_! "Erik…" Christine whimpered again, her hands moving to his shoulders, and sinking in beneath his coat. "Come…come upstairs?"

The part of him that had been teaching men the art of wooing and dating, screamed at him to not do it, that something as intimate as love making should wait…for how long? He wasn't sure, but he had always told his clients to wait…

The rest of him, the man who was kissing and holding the woman he had been dreaming about all his life, told that part of him to shut up. "Yes…" he moaned, with a ragged breath, not thinking about anything else, just wanting to be with her.

Christine fumbled with her keys, as Erik leaned in and kissed her neck, his hands moving around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. Christine moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt his large, strong hands, caress her stomach, biting her lip as she imagined his hands caressing far more intimate places…

_Oh God, hurry up and open the door!_ Finally, her keys clicked in the keyhole, and she was able to get the door open. Erik held the door open with one hand as Christine pulled it forward, but neither of them made much progress with getting inside, for Erik had her backed up against the door, and was kissing her even harder, allowing his passion to overflow.

"Yes…" Christine moaned, as Erik's kisses moved across her jaw, over her cheekbones, and then down to her neck. She gripped his shoulders as she felt his own hands move down from her waist, to caress her hips. "Yes, Oh God, yes…" Christine gasped, as she felt Erik's teeth gently nip her neck and throat.

Erik was caught off guard when suddenly, Christine launched herself at him, or rather, gripped his shoulders, and attempted to wrap her legs around his waist. Thankfully, Erik caught her, and held her tightly to his body, as well as gently crushing her against the open door, his lips finding hers and fusing once more into another deep, passionate kiss.

"More…" Christine moaned. "Oh God, Erik…more…"

"Yes," Erik growled, his body on fire, his skin aching to feel her fingers run over him, his heart pounding, his blood pumping, and…well…he could not deny that a certain part of him was straining for release from the confines of his trousers.

"Oh God!" Erik practically roared in surprise, when Christine's hips wickedly began grinding against his body. It was almost too much! Almost…

Christine bit her lip and blushed deeply, but a wicked grin spread across her face. It had been a long time since she had had sex, and based on the ugly history of her past boyfriends, Christine always believed she would be reluctant, or at least nervous, about the idea of engaging in sex with any man ever again. And when it came to a man she cared about, like Erik? Extremely nervous! Yet here she was…in the breezeway of her apartment building, up against the door, her legs wrapped around Erik's body…and she was grinding herself against him like…like…well, like a porn star! This was her masked gentleman! She couldn't believe what she was allowing herself to do…

But thankfully…and much to her relief…it seemed that Erik was enjoying it.

"Christine…" he growled, as she once more grinded her hips against his groin…which caused her to bashfully grin…as she felt his body respond. Erik's amber gaze caught hold of hers, and without another word, moved in and claimed her lips once more…and much to the surprise of them both…allowed his own hips to respond to her movements!

"OH!" Christine gasped, her eyes flying wide, as she felt Erik's covered, and straining, hardness, grind against her own hips. Her movements earlier had given her a teaser trailer…but Erik's sudden movement was a full-fledged preview of things to come! Oh God, they had to get out of this breezeway _right_ now!

"Come on," Christine gasped, managing to gently move her lips away from his.

Erik looked somewhat confused, and he certainly was in a daze, but he realized what she was saying, and helped her down, although his body was more on fire than ever before. But without saying a word, he took her offered hand, and followed her, quickly, up the stairs that led to her apartment. Soon, they were standing just outside her door, but this time, Christine was prepared, and didn't have to fumble with her keys like earlier. She unlocked the door, pulled Erik in after her, and before the masked man could even open his mouth, he felt Christine's hands flatten against his chest, and push him back until _he_ was the one, up against the door.

"Erik," she moaned, before entwining her arms around his neck and bringing his head down to hers, once more.

Erik's own arms wrapped around her, and practically lifted her off her feet, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue moving and massaging hers with love and care. "Oooohhhh Christine…" he groaned, blindly moving her about the apartment, his full attention fixed on her and her lips, and it wasn't before he realized he was falling backwards…that he had found her couch. "Umph!" he grunted, landing on the back of the couch with a thud. A cat's hiss escaped from just below them; they had nearly fallen on top of Rupert. However, if the cat was looking for sympathy, he wasn't going to get it, as Christine continued to passionately kiss her date, her legs moving until she had them on either side of Erik's thighs, and she gasped once more, as Erik's body instinctively thrusted upward, to her own, grinding hips.

"Oh God," Christine moaned, knowing that she could not take much more of this teasing. The hem of her dress was practically up about her waist, and all she had to do was reach down, undo his trousers, and push aside her panties—

RING! RING!

A curse escaped Christine's throat as the sound of her phone began to fill her apartment. If it was Mrs. Butler, calling to complain about the noise…

"Ignore it," Christine groaned against Erik's lips. She refused to allow anyone to take away this moment!

Erik simply intensified the kiss, trying to regain some of the passion they had been feeling when they first stumbled into the apartment, when they first began kissing downstairs…

But the constant ringing of the phone was making it very difficult to concentrate.

The phone stopped ringing, and the answering machine picked it up instead. However, both Erik and Christine froze…as a familiar voice filled the apartment from the machine.

"Christine!? Christine!?"

It was Meg! And she sounded upset…as well as desperate.

"Please…if you are there, pick up this phone! I need to talk to you, please!"

Just then, a shrill sound escaped Erik's coat pocket, and both Erik and Christine looked down to see that the sound was coming from Erik's cell phone. Christine bit her lip, and sat up, leaning her weight off him, as she listened to Meg's desperate voice on the answering machine, and gasped as she heard her friend begin to sob.

"Please…please…I…I need…please, Chris…please…if you are there—"

"Meg?" Christine couldn't stand to hear her friend cry, and immediately moved off the couch to pick up the phone. She glanced across the room, and watched with embarrassed eyes, as Erik rose from the couch, immediately straightening his jacket and shirt…as well as his pants, before glancing down at the cell phone he now held.

"Oh Chris!" Meg gasped, before bursting into a long series of sobs. Christine's brow furrowed with confusion and sadness at her friend's sorrow, and she nervously glanced across the room at Erik, who was lifting the ringing cell phone to his ear.

While Christine moved away to answer the phone, he looked at his phone, cursing first that he hadn't thought to turn the damn thing off…and then looking surprised to see that the number on it…was Stephen's!

He glanced across the room at Christine, who was trying to calm her friend down, telling her that everything was going to be all right, that she was there and listening. He couldn't help but feel his heart go out to the petite blonde, and he couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride, as he watched and listened to his loving and caring Christine, work hard to console her friend.

He glared once more at the cell phone, wondering what on earth Stephen had done. "Yeah?" he asked, sounding extremely irritated, as he answered the phone.

"Erik?"

Stephen's voice was very shaky…and sounded just as upset as Meg had sounded on Christine's answering machine. Erik's irritation immediately melted away, only to be replaced by sudden concern. "What happened? What's wrong?" Erik asked, his voice hushed, not wanting to reveal to his date the person he was talking to.

"Oh Erik," Stephen groaned. "I…honestly, I did everything you had taught me, honest!"

"Oh Chris," Meg sobbed. "Everything was going wonderfully, until…"

"I listened, I felt confident, I paid attention to all the signs, and it seemed that we were going to have a great third date!"

"It's all her fault! My mother's! She ruined everything!"

Erik and Christine glanced at each other from across the room, just as both Meg and Stephen moaned into their respective ears, "it all went horribly wrong!"

* * *

Meg sat huddled on her sofa, a blanket wrapped around her body, as she gazed out over the shadowed trees of Central Park. 

"Here," Christine murmured, appearing from behind her, holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Meg smiled up at her friend, although it was a sad smile, and graciously took the mug from her hands. "Thank you," she whispered, before sipping the mug's warm, chocolaty contents.

Christine softly smiled back, before seating herself on the couch, opposite of her friend, and quietly sipping her own drink.

Meg bit her lip and turned her eyes to Christine's. "I'm _really, really_ sorry about calling you and interrupting your date—"

"Don't worry about it," Christine sighed, not wanting to dwell on all that had happened in her apartment. She liked it—oh whom was she kidding, she loved it! Erik's kiss was everything she had dreamed and so much more! But…did she really _mount_ him!? Did she actually _grind_ her hips against him!? Oh God…could she have been anymore…_sluttier!?_ What must he think of her!?

"Ugh! Ever since she flew into New York, she has just…God, she always does this!" Meg fumed, pounding her fist into the sofa as she glared outside at the night sky.

Christine was grateful for the distraction from her own thoughts, and looked upon her friend with deep sympathy. "Tell me everything that happened…"

* * *

"I ruined it…everything I…everything we have worked for in helping me win Miss Giry's heart," Stephen groaned. "All of it! It's all ruined…and it's all because of me!" 

Erik longed to remove his mask and rub the bridge of his nose in an attempt to soothe the headache that was raging within his head, but instead he sat on the chair in Stephen's living room, his hands gripping his knees, as he listened to Stephen's groans and watched the accountant pace back and forth across the room.

"By the way," Stephen said, pausing his feet and looking at Erik with a grateful smile. "Thanks for coming over here at such short notice; no doubt you were busy and I interrupted something—"

"Don't worry about it," Erik muttered, trying his hardest not to dwell on everything that had happened prior to Stephen's phone call. _I was only supposed to kiss her! But in the end, I turned into some sort of animal, trying to ravish her against a door, for the entire world to see! Good God, what must she think of me!? That I'm only after her for sex? I'm such an idiot!_

"I mean, it was all going so well!" Stephen sighed, his pacing resuming once more.

Erik welcomed the distraction from his own thoughts, and lifted his eyes to his friend. "Look, why don't you have a seat," he murmured, praying that Stephen would sit down; the pacing was making his headache worse. "And tell me everything that happened. I'm sure it's not as bad as think—"

* * *

"Oh trust me, Chris…it's ten times worse!" Meg groaned, before taking a pillow and putting it over her face, as if she were trying smother herself. 

Christine rolled her eyes and grabbed the pillow out of Meg's hands. "Look, just tell me! Stop going on about your mother and how she ruined everything, and just tell me what happened."

Meg pouted and drew the blanket up over her shoulders as she rolled away from the window and curled her body up into a ball. "Well…after I finished speaking with you on the phone, I finished getting ready for the evening, and even though my mother's arrival threw me this morning…I really began to feel so much better as the time for our date was drawing closer and closer. I mean, because Stephen had to reveal where he was taking me out for dinner," Meg grumbled, remembering how Stephen had wanted to keep everything a surprise, but her mother's conniving ways had forced Stephen to reveal one of his secrets for the evening. "Anyway," Meg went on, "I got a new dress on my way home from work, this really beautiful powder blue gown, which I thought would highlight the gold in my hair, and I also got these really cute shoes to match, as well as a new handbag—"

"MEG!" Christine interrupted, trying to hold onto her patience. "Focus…please."

Meg blushed but nodded her head. "Anyway, I was feeling so good, that when the limo pulled up, all the worries I had been experiencing earlier that day seemed to vanish completely! I mean, everything you said on the phone really began to sink in, about how Stephen would be understanding, how he wouldn't hold it against me for what my mother said, and that he would listen to what I had to say."

Christine nodded her head, hoping that was exactly what had happened. Stephen seemed like such an upstanding guy, she really couldn't imagine him being intolerant…

However, some of Christine's past boyfriends had lulled her into a false sense of security, making her think that they were one thing when in truth, they were the other.

"So anyway," Meg went on, "I go outside to the limo, and the driver, this older man with a strong Brooklyn accent, greets me and opens the door…"

* * *

"I'm in the limo, but stuffed in like a sardine, surrounded by endless amounts of flowers!" 

Erik groaned and shook his head. Pete, good ol' Pete, the grumpy romantic. "How stuffed? I mean, could you at least move?"

"Do my toes count?"

Erik groaned again. He had spoken to the old limo driver, and Pete had given his word that he would not do anything over the top! Apparently, filling a limo to the brim with flowers did not count as "over the top". "Was that what upset her?"

* * *

"Oh Chris, you should have seen it! The limo was filled to the brim with flowers!" Meg gushed, giggling at the memory. "Poor Stephen, he didn't look like he could move! And I had no idea where or how I was going to sit," she laughed. "He and the driver tried to push several aside for me, but it was near impossible! In the end, I ended up with several bouquets upon my lap, frozen in place just like Stephen," she giggled. "But I didn't mind, truly. I have to say, I thought it was one of the sweetest and most adorable things I had ever seen…"

* * *

Erik gave a relieved smile; happy that Pete's interfering fell upon someone who appreciated and took it as a simple, romantic gesture, rather than fake or overwhelming. "So it wasn't the flowers, then…but something did happen?" 

Stephen sighed and nodded his head. "Everything seemed to be going fine! We were laughing and joking about the flowers, and we had a ball trying to get out of the limo once we arrived at the restaurant," he chuckled, but his face quickly fell as everything flooded back. "But that was when it all began to fall apart, that it all began to go wrong…"

* * *

"That was when _SHE_ showed up, and ruined everything!" Meg wailed.

* * *

"_We have a very nice Chardonnay, 1982?" the waiter suggested, while taking Meg and Stephen's orders._

_Stephen glanced at his date and smiled, nodding his head. "That sounds lovely."_

_Meg grinned, liking the way that Stephen spoke. He took words that she heard every day, and just made them sound…special._

_Stephen turned his attention back to Meg and began blushing immediately. "I confess…I'm not that experienced with French food…"_

_Meg grinned and without warning, reached across the table and took Stephen's hand in hers. "Once you get past the snails and goose liver? It's all a breeze," she winked._

_Stephen chuckled back at her joke, although he couldn't help but feel even more nervous, as he glanced down at the way she was holding his hand. Was it his imagination? Or was she actually…trying to lace her fingers through his!?_

"_Stephen," Meg murmured, nibbling her bottom lip and allowing her eyes to fall to the table, to where her hand lay atop his. "I want…oh gosh, I'm so embarrassed," she sighed, before finally lifting her eyes to hold his. "I want to apologize for this morning—"_

"_You don't need to apologize—"_

"_Yes, I do," Meg insisted. "And besides, I want to," she whispered. "It's just…my mother surprised me this morning, I didn't even know she was going to be there! I still really don't know why she is here," Meg frowned, recalling her mother's lame reasoning for being there was that she wanted to spend Thanksgiving with her daughter, when she never had before. "But when the phone rang, and she learned that you were an accountant, she…well…she—"_

"_She assumed that I was calling in regards to business," Stephen softly filled in, putting on a smile to put Meg at ease. "It's a fair assumption, after all, I am an accountant for the magazine, and nothing more…" Meg bit her lip as she caught the hint of sadness in Stephen's voice. "Nothing like your friend Simon, or…or like that model, Tony."_

_Meg's eyes went wide at Stephen's words. "No, you're_ nothing _like Tony, Stephen, and for that I am_ grateful!"_ her fingers dug into his, until they were finally laced together. "And I like you! You, Stephen! I like you as 'you'."_

_Stephen lifted his eyes from their laced fingers, to hold her emerald gaze, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. Erik had told him that the proper time to kiss was at the end of the evening…but perhaps he could break this one rule? "Meg, I—"_

"_Madame, please, let me at first check with our guests—"_

"_There is no need to check!" shouted a bossy female voice, with a heavy French accent. "That is my daughter just over there!"_

_Meg whipped her head around, her eyes going wide and her face going pale…as she took in the sight of her own mother, barging towards her like a charging stampede. _

"_Madame, please," the restaurant host tried to save them, but it was too late; Antoinette was on a mission._

"_Do you know who I am?" Antoinette asked, her dark eyes glaring into the host's. Before the man could answer, she went ahead and answered for him. "I am Antoinette Giry, famous fashion icon and the founder of_ New York Chique _magazine! And if you do not step out of my way, I will demand an audience with your manager!"_

_The host looked like he was going to cry! He quickly fizzled away, allowing her to pass and continue to her destination, which, much to Meg's horror, was their table._

"Mon dieu_, the things one must put up with!" she groaned as she approached Meg's table._

_Meg and Stephen's hands instantly flew apart. "Mother!" Meg hissed, feeling utterly embarrassed as everyone in the restaurant was looking at them. "What are you doing here!?"_

_Antoinette looked down at her daughter as if shocked by the very question. "Marguerite, what sort of a question is that?"_

"_A very good one, if you ask me," Meg grumbled, folding her arms across her chest._

_Antoinette rolled her eyes and pulled her fur wrap even tighter about her shoulders. "This is a business dinner, am I wrong? I felt it important that I be here!" she looked down at the table and frowned, then reached out to grab the arm of a passing waiter. "_Excuse-moi_, is it possible for us to get a larger table?"_

_Meg's eyes went even wider, and she reached out and gripped her mother's arm. "What!? No, no, it is NOT possible!" she hissed, before fixing her gaze on the waiter. "Madame Giry will NOT be staying!"_

_Antoinette's eyes went wide as she stared back at her daughter in horror. "Marguerite! You are being rude!"_

"I _am being rude!?" Meg gasped. "Mother, you barged in here, demanding to see me, interrupting my dinner, and now inviting yourself to join us? No! I draw the line!"_

_Antoinette sighed and rolled her eyes, before putting on a sweet, motherly smile and reaching out to cup her daughter's cheek._ "Mon amour_, you are still new to the magazine business! I have sat through many dinners like this one, I simply want to be by your side to help,_ comprendre?"

"_No, Mother, I don't_ comprendre," _Meg muttered, her face a dark shade of red, her eyes fuming with rage and embarrassment, and if someone told her she had smoke coming out of her ears, she would believe it! "You are simply trying to do what you always do, which is meddle! Well it ends now! I am in charge of_ New York Chique_, and I am fully capable of conducting business entirely on my own!"_

"_Marguerite Emmanuel Giry, you are embarrassing me!"_

"_Oh, and I'm_ not _embarrassed!?"_

"_It would be a delight, to have you join us, Madame."_

_Both Meg and Antoinette paused, and slowly turned their confused expressions to the man who had just stood up and spoke. _

"_Pleased to meet you," Stephen murmured, holding his hand out to Meg's mother. "I'm Stephen Dulane, one of Miss Giry's accountants; we spoke on the phone earlier today."_

_Antoinette's eyes moved up and down Stephen, causing the poor man to fidget slightly under her dark, stern gaze. No doubt she was judging him; he only prayed that she would find some approval!_

_Antoinette's stony face suddenly broke into a dazzling smile. "_Merci vraiment,_ monsieur!" she grinned, before turning her face once more to Meg, giving her a look of disapproval for her rudeness, before turning back to Stephen and smiling. "I am happy to see that at least our magazine's accountants have manners."_

_Stephen winced at Antoinette's comment, knowing that she had intended that for Meg. He only invited her to join them because he didn't want Meg to suffer any more from embarrassment, as well as to try and stop the two of them from fighting further. However, as he glanced at Meg's stunned, pale face…he had no doubt that right now, he was the last person she wanted to speak with._

"_So is it possible that we could get a larger table?" Antoinette asked once more, turning her attentions to the waiter, who had been standing there, speechless, this whole time. _

_The waiter glanced at Stephen, who silently nodded his head. "_Oui_, madame," the waiter murmured, before snapping his fingers, and having several kitchen staff come out and clear away a slightly larger table, for the three of them to sit. "I will inform your waiter that you have a third," he politely explained, before leaving the three of them to their new table._

_Meg could not believe all that was happening. Her mother had just invited herself over for dinner! And this was HER DATE! _

"_Ah,_ merci_," Antoinette smiled, as Stephen helped her into her chair. "Few gentlemen exist in this world; it is nice to see that you are one of them, monsieur," she practically purred._

_Stephen glanced up at Meg, who was fuming, and wondered if it was a good idea to help her into her own chair? He knew it was the proper thing to do…but right now, he had a feeling that if he stepped close to her, he would lose a limb._

"_Marguerite, sit down! You are making me nervous, not to mention drawing attention to yourself by simply standing there," Antoinette groaned, unfolding her dinner napkin and placing it on her lap._

_Meg glared at her mother, and before Stephen could move around to pull out her chair, she flopped down into it and continued to glare._

_Antoinette lifted her eyes and smiled sweetly at her daughter. "I must say, that is a beautiful dress,_ mon amour_, is it new?"_

"_Yes," Meg growled. "I bought it specially for tonight."_

_Antoinette smiled, although it was a smile of judgment. "Hmm, it is very beautiful, but far too formal for a simple business dinner." _

_Meg just glared._

"_So, what is everyone eating?"_

* * *

Erik's hands were holding his head, as he leaned over in his chair and looked down at the floor. 

"I know…" Stephen murmured. "It was a bad idea, inviting her to join us…"

Erik lifted his eyes and sighed, before speaking. "Well…I can't say that it was a good idea, no."

Stephen groaned and began pacing once more. "I knew I ruined everything! I just…I thought perhaps…perhaps I could do some good, you know? I didn't like seeing her embarrassed, and I thought maybe…maybe by…well, by continuing the charade, it would help, you know?" He bit his lip and collapsed, once more, onto a chair opposite of Erik. "But it didn't…and no doubt, she blames me for ruining everything."

* * *

"Oh, but I don't blame him, not at all!" Meg defended. "I…I can't deny that I was frustrated and a little upset that he invited her to join us, but…oh Chris," Meg groaned, flopping back onto the couch and covering her face, once more, with her pillow. "I know that he was only trying to help. That's what makes him a good guy, you know?" 

Christine smiled and nodded her head, before reaching out and once more removing the pillow from her friend's face. "He likes you Meg, anyone can see that. And as you said, he was only trying to help and stop the two of you from fighting, as well as try to stop her from embarrassing you, further."

"I know," Meg growled, recalling how her mother spoke throughout the whole evening. "Ugh! I can't believe I allowed her to do that!"

Christine nibbled on her bottom lip, before lifting her eyes and glancing at her friend. "Did you…well, did you think about…maybe telling her the truth? I mean, telling her the true reason as to why you and Stephen were there, having dinner?"

* * *

"Oh God, why would she want to do a thing like that!?" Stephen gasped. 

Erik looked confused. "Why _wouldn't_ she? It's clear that she likes you, she's defended you in the past, she's stood by your side, she even referred to you as her 'boyfriend' when you were at the hospital—"

"But that doctor was a complete stranger!" Stephen explained. "This…this is her _mother!_ Antoinette Giry, the face of fashion in the 1960's! The founder of _New York Chique!_ She's a celebrity! She has paparazzi following her! And who am I?" he held his arms out, and looked down at himself, feeling defeated. "I'm just an accountant; an overweight, nerdy accountant…"

Erik shook his head and rose to his feet, crossing the room and firmly placing his hands on Stephen's shoulders. "Yes you are an accountant, but you are also more, Stephen. You're a good man; polite, sincere, honest, hardworking, and a true gentleman!"

* * *

"I know that!" Meg defended. "I know that he's all those things and more! So much more!" 

Christine held up her hands. "Easy, Meg, I'm not saying that you don't think of Stephen as a good man. I really don't know the guy that well, but based on everything you've told me about him, I believe you! He's nothing like those other jerks that you once dated."

Meg nodded her head, but another pout fell across her lips and she flopped back down onto the sofa. "I did try, Chris, honestly! I mean…I tried to give her hints that this wasn't exactly a business dinner…"

"Hints?" Christine lifted an eyebrow at these words.

Meg nodded her head, although she was looking down at her feet. "I…I just…" she threw her hands up into the air and groaned. "Oh God, who am I kidding? I could have done so much more!" she gasped, before the tears began streaming down her cheeks. "Stephen was…was only…only trying to p-p-protect me…" she sobbed. "And…and…I j-j-just s-sat there…and did nothing!"

* * *

"No! No, you have it all wrong, she did try to tell her mother about us, on several occasions!" Stephen defended. 

Beneath his mask, Erik lifted his eyebrows. "Really? How?"

Stephen sighed and looked down at his feet. "She tried to hint at her mother that she and I would like to be alone, that this was a special occasion, and when Antoinette made a comment about noticing that I didn't have a brief case or business folder, and thought that odd for a business dinner, Meg actually stood up and was about to say that…well…"

Erik leaned in. "What? What was she about to say?"

Stephen shrugged his shoulders, looking helpless. "I…I don't know, exactly. Because…well…you see, I stopped her before she went on…"

Erik stared at his friend with wide eyes. "You stopped her!?"

"I know, I know, I shouldn't have!" Stephen groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I just…well, I'd like to think that maybe she was going to tell her mother that we were on a date, but…I…I was just…I was too embarrassed!"

Erik looked at Stephen strangely. "Embarrassed? Of who? Meg?"

"No, not Meg, never Meg," Stephen sighed, before lifting his brown eyes to meet Erik's amber gaze. "Of me. I didn't…I don't…" he sighed before continuing. "After talking to Antoinette Giry…and then after meeting her, I just…I realized that there is no way she will ever accept me as a man worthy enough for her daughter."

Erik was growing angry. He had never met this woman before, but by God, if he knew where she was staying, he was extremely tempted to seek her out and give her a piece of his mind.

"Stephen, listen to me—"

"I ruined it all, Erik, everything! This whole evening, our third date, the night I was supposed to kiss Meg! I ruined our date…"

* * *

"But I could have done so much more! I could have grabbed my mother's arm and told her once and for all that she has no right meddling in my life, that I am the one now in charge of the magazine, and I don't need her help when it comes to making those decisions, and…and that I can date whoever I want, and that I am proud to call Stephen Dulane my boyfriend!" 

Christine smiled, but still felt deep pity for her friend. These were things Meg had wanted to do…not necessarily what had happened.

"But I didn't do any of that, I chickened out at the last minute," Meg sighed. "I'm such a coward, Chris, I can't even stand up to my own mother!"

"Hey, don't beat up on yourself!" Christine defended, moving closer to her friend and wrapping her arm around Meg's shoulders. "Listen, things can still be put to right; why don't you call him? I'm sure that once he hears everything you've just told me, things will be better—"

"Oh, but you haven't heard the worst!" Meg groaned.

Christine's face fell at her friend's words. "There's more?" _There's a worst?_

Meg just sadly, nodded her head.

* * *

_"Well, I must say, I have met many accountants in my life, but none of them have ever been kind enough to take their client out to celebrate their financial success, as you have done, monsieur," Antoinette grinned, as she finished her chocolate mousse._

_Stephen put on a smile, before glancing across the table at Meg, hoping that she could see the apology in his eyes. Meg's eyes, however, were fixed on her folded hands, upon the table._

"_Yes, I must say, you are running things very well,_ mon amour_," Antoinette chuckled. "To have your accountants show such respect for their clients! Oh, I do miss the magazine, I can not deny…and I think I miss it even more, knowing that Meg is in such wonderful hands as yours, Monsieur Dulane."_

_Stephen blushed deeply at the older woman's words. That was the closest thing he had heard to a parental blessing! But in her eyes, this was just a business dinner, and nothing more._

"_I trust that this is not coming out of company expenses?" _

"_Mother!" Meg gasped, staring at her mother with disbelief for asking such at thing._

_Antoinette looked confused. "What? I am very grateful for this kind gesture, but I do not want to think that our money is being spent on fancy dinners like this all the time?"_

"_No need to worry, Madame," Stephen quickly intervened. "This is all complimentary from our office, completely off the books."_

_Meg bit her lip and looked across the table at her date. Good grief, this whole dinner was going to cost poor Stephen a fortune!_

_Antoinette smiled. "Oh, that is very kind of you," she purred, before looking down at the table; over half of the empty dishes were her own. "Forgive me, but ever since I retired from modeling…I have been eating to make up for lost time." She burst into laughter at her own joke, to which Stephen weakly chuckled, and to which Meg gave no comment at all._

"_Well, I must say," Antoinette sighed, rising from her chair. "That was a wonderful meal, and I am very happy to have had the chance to meet you, monsieur," she smiled, before extending her hand to shake Stephen's. _

"_It was a pleasure to meet you, Madame," Stephen murmured as politely as he could._

"_Yes," Meg muttered, also rising from her chair, her eyes like daggers upon her mother. "Always a pleasure, especially when one drops by, unannounced."_

_Antoinette did not miss the venom in her daughter's voice. "Is something bothering you,_ mon amour?"

_It took every ounce of willpower Meg contained, to not leap across the table and strangle her mother. But instead, she gripped the table edge and put on a smile. "Well…goodnight!"_

_Antoinette looked confused; her daughter was saying goodnight to the accountant…but looking at her._

"_Goodnight,_ Mother_," Meg repeated, making it even clearer to who she was addressing._

_Antoinette's painted brows lifted in surprise. "But…__Marguerite, I thought you and I could leave together, perhaps take that limo Monsieur Dulane was kind enough to send for you, and go back to your apartment and talk?"_

_Talk!? TALK!? Her mother, after barging in and ruining her dinner…wanted to talk!?_

"_I'm afraid you are mistaken, Mother," Meg growled, low and deep. "You see, I have plans following dinner—"_

_Antoinette gasped and looked back and forth between her daughter and Stephen. "Oh! Oh, Monsieur Dulane, do you mean to tell me that your kindness towards my daughter goes_ beyond _dinner?"_

_Stephen swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, unsure, exactly what she meant by that._

"_Mother—"_

"_Oh_ mon amour_, you truly are a gem!" Antoinette gushed, before reaching out and scooping Meg's hand up in hers. "The way the office showers compliments and gifts upon you for your success! Oh, I do hope you are giving them all a bonus this Christmas?"_

_Meg blushed deeply, as did Stephen. Antoinette, however, seemed completely clueless. "So? Where are we going?"_

"_WE!?" Meg gasped, glaring at her mother._

_Antoinette looked at her daughter, and then for the first time since she had barged in upon them, blushed deeply._ "Excuse-moi_, no doubt you were not expecting me to come when you made the plans…"_

"_You got that right," Meg muttered under her breath._

_Antoinette smiled at Stephen. "Will you indulge me, monsieur, and tell me what you have planned? I am curious to know where my daughter is going."_

_Meg glared at her mother. "It's none of your business—"_

"_The ballet."_

_Both Meg and Antoinette stared at Stephen with large, wide eyes. Antoinette looked delighted, whereas Meg looked absolutely stunned…and disappointed. That was Stephen's surprise? She loved the ballet and she was overwhelmed that he had done that for her! But she also knew that Stephen wanted to keep everything a surprise…and once more, her mother's meddling had ruined that._

"_Oh Stephen…" Meg murmured, a smile lifting at the corners of her lips, the disappointment washing away. He had listened to her when she rambled on about how, when she was a little girl, she wanted to be a dancer._

"_Oh! The ballet, I adore the ballet!" Antoinette gushed. "It's been years since I've seen it; oh, do tell me, which ballet is it that you are going to?"_

_Stephen dug his hand into his pockets and pulled out two tickets. "Actually, Madame…you are in luck," he murmured. "I have an extra ticket."_

_Antoinette gasped and clapped her hands together, before snatching the tickets up. "OH! Oh, Monsieur Dulane, did you do this for me, on the off chance that I arrived!?"_

_Stephen glanced at Meg's stunned, pale face…and quickly looked down at the ground. He had seen the disappointment in her eyes earlier, when he announced he was going to take her to the ballet. And the more time he spent in Antoinette's company, the more he began to realize that he wasn't worthy of such a beautiful woman as her daughter._

"_Oh,_ merci_, monsieur,_ merci!"_ Antoinette squealed, before grabbing Stephen unsuspectingly by the shoulders, and placing two loud kisses on either side of his face. "Look,_ mon amour_, they are for_ The Nutcracker! _Well, that makes sense, as it is now the Christmas season. Oh, do you remember when you were a little girl, and you would dance around pretending to be the Sugar Plum Faerie?" Antoinette was in such a state of happiness; she didn't realize the miserable faces around her._

"_Stephen…" Meg whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes. _

_Stephen couldn't bear to meet her gaze. "Enjoy the ballet, Miss Giry," he whispered, before turning and walking out of the restaurant. _

* * *

Christine was gaping at her friend as she finished the story. "He…he just…he just walked out!?" Stephen Dulane seemed like such an upstanding guy! Yet instead of standing up to Antoinette Giry…he just allowed the woman to make her assumptions and walk all over him! And then he abandoned Meg! "My gosh," Christine muttered, before rising from the couch and taking Meg's now empty mug into the kitchen. "I guess I was wrong about him…"

* * *

Erik stared at Stephen as he finished the story. "And…and she didn't say anything to her mother to stop her from taking those tickets!?" he was appalled by Stephen's story, especially when Stephen confessed to handing the tickets over to Antoinette, but he could not stop fuming over the thought that Meg Giry didn't try to correct her mother, that she just stood there while the vile woman did her little "celebration dance", gushing over going to the ballet, and the girl didn't even say anything to correct the matter! "Well…perhaps I was wrong about Miss Giry," Erik muttered. "Perhaps she is a just a spoiled little rich girl who takes whatever she can get…but refuses to stand up for those in need."

* * *

"Wrong!? No, Chris, this isn't Stephen's fault! You can't blame him!" 

Christine rolled her eyes as she turned the water on in the sink to rinse out their cocoa mugs. "The guy just…just allowed your mother to take those tickets and instead of saying anything to her, he more or less just…gave up and walked out!"

Meg bit her lip. "No, Chris, I…I should have said something."

"Meg—"

"No, it's true!" Meg defended, leaping off the sofa and rushing into the kitchen after her friend. "I just stood there, with my mouth hanging open…and…" she bit her lip and looked down at her feet, feeling so ashamed. "And I went with her, and didn't say anything."

Christine turned away from the sink and stared at her friend. "Oh Meg, you didn't—"

"I didn't stay long," Meg confessed. "I couldn't even make it to the intermission, I just…I felt so miserable…and…oh God, what I did was horrible, how he must hate me," her hand flew to her mouth as the tears began to stream down her face once more. "I've been blaming her all evening…" she gasped between sobs. "But…but…in truth…it's my fault!"

* * *

"Erik, I respect you very much, and I thank you for all the lessons you have taught me," Stephen said, his shoulders square and his head lifted high. "But I will not allow you to say anything bad about Miss Giry, let alone think it." 

Erik stared at his friend, surprised by the determined way Stephen was speaking. "She didn't stop her mother from taking the tickets, she didn't try to say anything to rectify the situation—"

"No, but…but I know now, sadly, and far too late, that I shouldn't have just walked away. I shouldn't have allowed Antoinette Giry to take those tickets, and I shouldn't have allowed her to make all those assumptions. I…I put too much pressure on Meg!"

Erik's eyes softened as he listened to Stephen's words.

"It's true, I…I can't believe what I did!"

"Stephen—"

"I sat there, throughout all of dinner, allowing everything to go on, and not once taking responsibility for myself, and standing up and saying, 'Madame, I am an accountant for _New York Chique_, but this is not a business dinner. I apologize for the confusion, but you must understand that this dinner is in truth, a date. And your daughter has graciously accepted my invitation to dinner, despite who and what I am'," he let out a long, shaky breath. "Alright, maybe I could have left that last part out, but…I shouldn't have expected her to say everything."

"But Antoinette is Meg's mother; don't you think Meg should have cleared things up, herself? Don't you think it's Meg's responsibility?"

"Yes…but it's mine, too!" Stephen declared, puffing his chest out, trying to make himself look bigger and stronger. "I'm her date, I'm…" he prayed this was still true. "I'm her _boyfriend_. And that means we help one another, we stand up for each other, and we don't let the other person deal with all the pressure. Meg has spoken up for me in the past, and speaking up for her is the least I can do, in fact, that's what couples do! I understand that now!"

Silence fell between the two of them, and without a word, Stephen ran to the closet by his apartment door and grabbed his coat. "Forgive me, Erik!" Stephen called from within the closet. "I'm afraid I must leave you, but I'm sure you can find your way out!"

Erik was already at the door, holding it open and smiling. "Go get her."

Stephen smiled and murmured his thanks, as he exited the apartment, with Erik still standing in the doorway. Stephen would make everything right, he seemed to have a knack for doing that. But Erik's proud smile faded somewhat, as once more, he was reminded of his own ill behavior tonight. He enjoyed it, God knew…and surely Christine knew too, that he enjoyed it. But would she think less of him for his behavior?

"Perhaps I should also make a visit?" he murmured to himself. He did leave her place rather quickly without an explanation. He looked back inside Stephen's apartment once more, and recalled all the words his friend had said. "It wouldn't be the first time he's given me some helpful advice," he murmured. "Perhaps the Date Phantom as his own coach after all."

* * *

"Meg? Meg what are you doing!?" 

One minute Christine was hugging her friend, who had been crying against her shoulder, and the next, Meg pushed herself out of Christine's arms, and was rushing across her apartment to grab her coat.

"I have to make things right, Chris!" Meg announced, as she pulled the coat on over her pajamas. "I have to go to his place, and pray that he's there, and tell him how sorry I am for not standing up to my mother and for allowing her to get the better of me. It's my own fault that the date was ruined tonight, no one can be blamed but me."

"Meg, it's almost two in the morning!" Christine tried to reason. "Why don't you call him—"

"He may screen his calls and not want to talk to me!" Meg explained in an exasperated tone. "No, Chris, I need to do this in person! There is no other way to—"

A loud pounding on her door interrupted her words.

Meg looked at Christine with confusion. Who could that be, and how did they get in without being buzzed up? Was the doorman on duty?

The knocking continued, and it actually sounded rather desperate.

"Do you want me to see who it is?" Christine asked.

Meg squared her shoulders and lifted her head up. "I will deal with them," she boldly stated, before marching towards the door, and without even looking through the peephole, throwing it open.

Both Christine and Meg gasped, their eyes going wide and their mouths dropping at the person who stood on the other side of the door.

"Ah, I'm glad you're still awake, _mon amour_," Antoinette greeted, before waltzing inside. "You have much explaining to do, particularly about that accountant we had dinner with."


	20. With You, I Can Be Myself

**Summary: **Antoinette asks questions, Meg reveals, and Christine makes a bold decision...

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_With You, I Can Be Myself_**

All Christine wanted to do was crawl under a rock and disappear.

She would have too, if there were any good rocks around…and if Meg weren't holding fast to her wrist at the moment.

"You have the NERVE to come here and demand answers in regards to MY private life!?" Meg all but screamed at her mother, her eyes wide with outrage at the woman's questions.

"_Mon amour,_ I am merely trying to understand all that is going on—"

"NO! No, that is NOT what you are trying to do, you are being meddlesome as you normally are, and while it may sound silly, I truly have come to the conclusion that you only want to make my life a living hell!"

Christine winced, both at Meg's high-pitched tone, and at the stinging words she threw at her mother.

Antoinette's eyes widened in shock at her daughter's words. Then, her expression immediately darkened, and she went off into a long tirade of French, to which Meg rolled her eyes and Christine looked confused.

Meg finally cut in, raising the palm of her hand to silence the older woman. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to one more word of this. You have RUINED my evening, Mother, and I have nothing more to say to you, so GOODNIGHT!"

Meg pointed to the door, a silent command telling her mother to leave, but Antoinette simply dug her feet into the carpet and glared back at her daughter.

"How dare you speak to me in such a way! I am your _mother!_ I am—"

"You're a _pest_ is what you are!" Meg retorted.

Antoinette growled, low and deep. "I come to New York to show my support, to show you and the rest of the world how _proud_ I am of you, and all night long I lift your name up and praise you—"

"Praise me? HA!" Meg threw her head back and let out a sarcastic bark of laughter. "I can't believe you would even say something like that, that you would give such a bald-faced…LIE, like that—"

"LIE!?" Antoinette gasped, looking more hurt from this accusation than any of the others Meg had thrown at her. "_Mon duei,_ I…I can not believe you would think that!?"

Meg's stare was still cold and unforgiving, but it had softened, slightly. "I can think it, because ever since you arrived in New York, you have been lying to me!"

Antoinette turned her head, as if to hide her tears, but Christine noticed there was something else in the gesture. Was it shame? Shame at the truth, perhaps?

"I know I'm right," Meg went on. "You told me that you came here to spend Thanksgiving with me, but Thanksgiving was last week, and you NEVER have spent Thanksgiving with me before! Then, when I accuse you of meddling with the magazine, a fact which I KNOW is true based on reports that my employees tell me, you deny it passionately…before admitting that you want to help, that you can't just sit there and entrust the whole thing with me, that you need to be involved in some way. So really, Mother, how can you stand there and claim that you are praising my name, showing the world how proud you are…when you can't even trust me to make decisions!?"

Antoinette bit her lip and for the longest moment, did not lift her eyes back to her daughter's face. But when she did, the tears they saw reflected in the woman's dark eyes surprised both Meg and Christine. These were not "crocodile tears" brought on by a great actress; they looked quite genuine.

"Am I the only one who's lied, _mon amour?"_

Meg paled at her mother's words. "W-w-what? I…I haven't—"

"Don't cover one lie with another," Antoinette interrupted. "It wasn't until I returned to my hotel room that I finally realized something was going on between you and the accountant."

All the color in Meg's pretty face disappeared at her mother's words, and Christine bit her lip with worry. Should she say something to distract the older woman? Should she step in and say something in defense of Stephen? Should she get involved at all? She knew how important it was to be there and stand by her friend in support, but she still wished she could just disappear from this whole scene.

However, pride swelled inside Christine's heart…as Meg lifted her chin, her green eyes locking with those of her mother's. "He is not just some…accountant, Mother; his name is Stephen Dulane…and while I have no shame whatsoever in regards to him or the relationship in which we have…frankly, it's none of your business."

Antoinette cocked a painted eyebrow at her daughter's words. "Are you sleeping with him?"

"MOTHER!" Meg all but choked on the word.

"Well there certainly is something going on between the two of you," Antoinette went on, as if her question were quite natural to ask. "As I said, when I returned to my hotel room, I recalled how…strangely, you behaved when he called this morning, and how…cozy, the two of you looked, when I arrived at the restaurant, not to mention how…awkward things seemed, when I insisted that you allow me to stay with you—"

"No one ALLOWED anything, you all but INVITED yourself upon us, and even if we had told you to get lost, you would have stayed anyway," Meg grumbled, folding her arms across her chest and looking away in complete annoyance.

Antoinette wasn't a fool; she had noticed that not once, had her daughter denied that anything was going on between herself and Monsieur Dulane. If anything, the young woman had confirmed her suspicions by refusing to talk about them! "When you left the ballet in tears…I realized that those two tickets that Monsieur Dulane acquired were you and _him_. And that dinner meeting…that was no meeting, that was a date…wasn't it?"

Meg's face was turning a bright shade of red. This was NOT her mother's business, she had no right to pry and ask such questions! Yet Meg also knew that her mother would not cease unless she received some sort of answer…and frankly, she was tired of this whole charade. "Yes…yes, Mother, it was a date, in fact it was our _THIRD DATE!"_

Antoinette stared at her daughter with wide, surprised eyes. She had expected the revelation that the meeting was a date…but she had no idea that a relationship between her daughter and the accountant had been going on for as long as it had been! She opened her mouth to speak, but Meg cut her off.

"I don't care what you say Mother, in fact, I don't want to hear you say anything. I want you to turn around, and walk right back out that door! And I want you to go downstairs, get a cab, and go back to your hotel room…and in the morning, checkout, go to the airport, and take the first flight back to Paris!" she fumed. "Because I am not a child, I can make my own decisions, INCLUDING who I date! And I'm sorry if you don't think Stephen Dulane can fit in with your 'oh so glamorous' world, but I don't care! TO HELL WITH THE FASHION INDUSTRY!" Meg shouted, throwing her hands up into the air. "I like Stephen! I like him A LOT! In the past I have dated a ton of men that the industry deemed 'suitable', but not one of them have made me feel as…as happy, as Stephen makes me feel, not one of them have made me smile or laugh the same way he does, and…and…" the emotion in her throat was making it more and more difficult to speak. "Not one of them…have…have made me feel like…like I really matter. I may be your daughter and the editor-in-chief to a popular magazine…but Stephen…he…he…he's the best man I know, Mother…and if you or the industry have a problem with that because he doesn't 'look the part'…then screw it! Because the whole point of fashion is to promote beauty, but if beauty is only measured by what people wear, or how they look on the outside…well, I think it's obvious it needs to change."

Silence fell across the apartment, and Antoinette never once took her eyes off her daughter's face. Meg's head was held high, her chin lifted, her gaze focused and determined, as if daring her mother to even try to protest. Christine's eyes kept drifting back and forth between the two, unsure on what was going to happen next. Would Antoinette attempt to argue? Would she leave? Would either of them ever speak again? What Christine wouldn't give to be back in her own apartment…with Erik in her arms…and his kiss upon her lips…

Of course, that thought immediately caused Christine's face to darken a deep shade of red, causing her body to tingle and her brain to mentally reprimand herself for her "fast" and "desperate" behavior.

"Oh _mon amour_…" Antoinette murmured, bolting Christine back to the present, and causing Meg to stiffen, slightly. She was steeling herself for whatever her mother to had to say.

Yet, the words her mother did say were not the words she had expected.

"Why didn't you say anything!?"

Both Meg and Christine were somewhat stunned by the woman's question. "W-w-what?" they both said in unison.

Without warning, Antoinette threw her arms around her daughter's petite figure, practically smothering Meg to her shoulder. "Oh _mon amour!_ I'm so happy! _Heureux!"_ Antoinette crushed her daughter to her side even more. "Oh! In the brief time I got to know him…he is an absolute gentleman! So polite, so…_attentionne!_ Nothing at all like that horrid man you were with before…what was his name again…Antoine?"

"Tony," Christine supplied.

"Ah! Tony, _oui,_ what a pig! _Porc!" _Antoinette all but spat. "I never liked him, he spent far too much time in front of a mirror, and no man should ever spend more time than a woman, preparing himself for an evening out."

"Wait, wait, wait a second!" Meg gasped, gripping her mother's shoulders and forcing herself away, catching her breath, as well as Antoinette's eyes. "You're…you're _not_ going to argue with me about this!?"

Antoinette looked shocked by her daughter's question…however, a look of guilt also washed over her face. Meg would not even think such things, if she had not done them in the past.

"Marguerite—Meg," Antoinette corrected. "I…it's not that I don't trust you…I know you are a very capable woman, a strong woman, a woman who does right by her employees when she can, and when she can't, she strives to find ways where she can…and…I confess…I…" she looked away, and the tears that both Meg and Christine had seen in her eyes earlier, returned, causing the older woman's mascara to drip down her face. "I see you…making these decisions, making _good_ decisions without any advice…and…and I worry…perhaps you don't need me anymore?"

Meg's cold, questioning glare softened immediately, and her heart melted at the way her mother began sobbing. This was not an act, Meg could tell that. Her mother could pout, protest, and wail just as good as any two-year old. But these were genuine tears…and this was a genuine worry that her mother had expressed. "Oh Mother…" Meg sighed, wrapping her arms around the older woman and pulling her in close. Antoinette didn't protest, she hugged her daughter tightly and sobbed into the young woman's shoulder. "Shh…it's alright, don't cry…" Meg whispered into her mother's hair. She glanced at Christine, who smiled tenderly at the two of them. Antoinette's interference wasn't because she didn't think Meg could do anything, or because she didn't trust Meg…it was sadly, simply because she wanted to be seen as "useful" and not give into the real possibility that she wasn't going to be needed for everything anymore.

"F-f-f-forgive me," Antoinette sniffled, trying to regain some composure. "I must look like a complete fool. _Debile,"_ Antoinette turned away to blow her nose in a tissue that Christine offered_. "Merci, mon cheri,"_ she thanked.

Meg sighed and rubbed her mother's arms. "Mother, don't ever think that I don't need you…please, I…it's not that, it's—"

"Marguerite, say no more, please…" Antoinette interrupted, her face quite red, and not because of her tears. "I…it was quite wrong of me to show up, unannounced, to…to sit at your desk, as if I were still editor-in-chief, and…and especially to show up this evening," she sighed, looking down and feeling ashamed. "Truly, my only excuse is I missed being a part of those decisions, I missed helping my little girl, I missed…I missed being the one you always turned to, I…"

"You missed being needed?" Meg supplied. Antoinette gasped and looked into her daughter's eyes, and Meg knew she had her answer.

_"Oui,"_ Antoinette whispered. "I…I have b-b-been noticing over the last…the last few months…no, over the last year…that…that you don't need my advice, t-that you call less frequently, and…I…especially now, I needed to _feel_ needed—"

"Wait…what do you mean by 'especially now'?" Meg asked, looking confused. "Did something happen recently?"

Antoinette sighed and looked down at her feet. "We broke up," she muttered under her breath.

Christine's brow creased even more at this announcement. Who? What?

Meg also looked confused, but she seemed to know a little more than her friend. "You and Edwardo?"

Antoinette's head flew up, her eyes wide. "Edwardo!? No! No! _I_ dumped HIM!" she spat, desperately trying to hold her head high. "And that was six months ago! This is _Rodrigo_," she explained. "Rodrigo from Barcolona? _Oui?_ Remember…?"

In truth, Meg didn't remember. Her mother was famous for the way that she went through men; the tabloids always referred to Antoinette's boyfriends as "fashion accessories", and once upon a time, they surely were that. But as the fashion icon got older…it was beginning to look as if the men were in truth, using her and her fame to get them somewhere, and sadly making Antoinette look like the desperate older woman who was trying to cling to some lost strand of youth.

"Oh, it doesn't matter…" Antoinette moaned, moving past her daughter and collapsing onto the large sofa, just as Meg had done earlier. "I know I must look like a fool with a man who's twenty, or twenty-five years younger than myself," she grumbled, before allowing a cynical laugh to escape her lungs. "I suppose I'm drawn to them because, ironically, I feel needed by _them_, even though it is only for a short period of time."

"Mother," Meg walked over to the couch and sat down opposite of her. She glanced up at Christine, who simply nodded her head, before quickly going into the kitchen to make Antoinette her own mug of hot chocolate. "I love you, and I do still need you...even if I don't call all the time," she leaned forward and cupped her mother's chin, lifting the older woman's face until she could see into Antoinette's eyes. "I've grown up, I live on my own, and I run the magazine now, the magazine that YOU taught me to run…" she murmured, her own eyes filled with loving tears as she gazed back at her mother. "Just because I'm not calling you every day or week, asking for advice on how to manage things with _New York Chique_ doesn't mean that I don't need you. Of course I need you, I mean…you're my mother!" she laughed, hoping to bring a smile to her mother's face; a small grin did lift at the corner of Antoinette's mouth.

"Oh _mon amour_," Antoinette sighed, lifting a hand to touch her daughter's cheek. "I've made many mistakes in my life…from tripping on the runway to dating the wrong men," she groaned. "But…the one thing I have done right, it seems…is you," she whispered, an emotional smile growing across her face.

Meg blushed, but felt her own eyes swim with emotional tears, as she laced her fingers with those of her mother's. While her mother had embarrassed her, many times throughout the day, she now understood that it wasn't out of vindictiveness or a need to be overbearing. She and her mother were very much alike, it seemed; they both needed to be affirmed by others, they both needed to feel wanted. Meg had dated many men who made her feel those very things, but…until Stephen entered her life, Meg never understood that the affirmation she longed to feel…needed to come from _herself_.

"You know, I must admit…" Antoinette murmured. "I noticed, a few times tonight, the way Monsieur Dulane looked at you…and the way you timidly glanced at him…and I could tell, this man was something special," she grinned.

Meg blushed deeply, but she was intrigued by her mother's words. "R-r-really?"

Antoinette's grin grew even broader. "_Oui_, because despite my presence there, which no doubt was annoying," she rolled her eyes, feeling embarrassed for ruining her daughter's date. "There were a few moments when you giggled at something he said. And in those giggles…I could tell that you weren't playing a part, as I sometimes have noticed with your previous boyfriends."

Meg looked down at her feet, before lifting her eyes to her mother's and nodding her head, silently. "Stephen's the first guy with whom I feel…that it's ok to be _me_, foibles and all."

Antoinette smiled and nodded her head. "Any man that makes you feel you can be yourself, completely, around them…is the right one," she whispered, her eyes looking distant, as if recalling a memory.

Christine had been standing nearby, holding Antoinette's hot chocolate, listening to the exchange between the two women. She was glad that things seemed to be better between them, and that Antoinette accepted Stephen as her daughter's boyfriend. Meg was going to date Stephen no matter what, but Christine knew that Antoinette's approval would make it easier. "Here you go," she murmured, smiling at her friend as she handed Antoinette her mug.

"Thanks, Chris," Meg grinned. "Maybe you can give my mother some 'Happy Single' advice?"

Antoinette swatted her daughter's arm, but smiled up at Christine, before sipping from her mug. "_Merci, cheri,_ you are very kind and a wonderful friend to my daughter."

Christine blushed but smiled back. "Well, she's been a wonderful friend to me, too."

"Whatever," Meg groaned with a roll of her eyes. "I've been goading you since yesterday about your date, and then I call you in the middle of it; some friend I am."

"Oh!" Antoinette gasped, turning her attentions fully on Christine. "You had a date tonight as well? How did it go? What did you do? Did you kiss?"

"Mother, don't pry; leave her alone," Meg groaned, coming to Christine's defense.

"I'm not prying! I am just curious—"

"You are too prying! You—"

"I'm going to go home now," Christine announced, her face glowing like a stoplight. "But I'm glad things are better between you both, I hope you have a good night, and I'll see you, Meg, tomorrow at the office."

Without another word, Christine grabbed her coat before Antoinette could throw any more questions her way. However, as she was going out the door, she did catch one comment…

"Well, she is a nice girl, but when I saw her here tonight, my first thought was perhaps that something was going on between the two of you! I mean, I would support you, _mon amour,_ if that was your decision, but I think Stephen is still better suited for you."

* * *

Stephen practically skipped into his own apartment, a huge smile beaming across his face. 

He had just come from Meg's apartment building, and the doorman, upon recognizing him, allowed him inside. He was fully prepared to pound on Meg's door, and sweep her up in his arms and kiss her, as well as fall to his hands and knees for not saying something to her mother about the two of them…when he stopped short, hearing shouting coming from the hallway!

Much to Stephen's surprise, the door was opened! He couldn't see, but he could hear, quite clearly, what was being said and who was saying it.

Meg…and Antoinette! She had come? She was there? Oh God, she knew that something was going on, he heard her ask the question! What should he do? Should he stay and listen? Should he interrupt, make his presence known, and say something? Should he—

Stephen froze…as he heard Meg's passionate announcement that she was dating him…and that she liked him!

His heart soared and his hopes rose as he listened to Meg's words. She was proud of him, she liked him, and she wanted to be with him!

And then the unthinkable happened.

He heard Antoinette's response…which was one filled with joy! He practically fell over as he heard Antoinette tell Meg how happy she was that she and Stephen were a couple, and he all but stopped breathing, as he heard Antoinette tell Meg…that _she_ liked him!

The two women began to cry, and from the sound of things, hug, and Stephen felt a huge, relieved, and joyful smile, spread across his face as he took everything that he had just learned, in.

He chose to leave then, feeling that the two women needed a moment to be together, and decided he would call Meg first thing in the morning and make arrangements for their next date. Things were going to be great now; he could feel it deep in his heart! He collapsed upon his own bed and smiled as he stared up at the ceiling, imagining Meg's beautiful face, smiling down at him, before lowering her lovely head to kiss his eager lips.

They hadn't officially kissed, and so far, many of their dates seemed to end with something going wrong, or at least not going as planned. But all that didn't matter…

They were a couple, Meg had said so herself.

The sudden ring of his phone woke Stephen from his trance. Who could that be? Erik? It was getting close to three in the morning, yet perhaps Erik had called to find out how things had gone? Stephen picked up the phone, fully prepared to reveal that Antoinette had told Meg that she liked him, when a different voice filled his ear, before he even had the opportunity to say "hello".

"Stephen? Are you there?"

"Meg?" Stephen gasped, nearly dropping the phone but gripping it to his ear, completely taken by surprise that she had called.

A sigh escaped Meg's lips, sounding very much like a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God, I'm so glad you're there."

She was glad that he was there! His heart was beating at a mile a minute as he recalled everything that he had heard her say.

"Oh gosh, I didn't wake you did I? Oh what a stupid thing to say, of course I did, it's nearly three in the morning, I—"

"No, no, it's fine, you can call me whenever you want," Stephen assured, grinning from ear to ear. "And I'm glad you called, I really wanted to apologize for my behavior tonight."

There was a long pause, and Stephen began to worry if perhaps the phone line had gone dead. But he was assured it hadn't, as he heard mumbling on the other end, sounding like Antoinette, telling her daughter to say something!

"Y-y-you...you're apologizing?" Meg finally gasped, after Antoinette's mumbling ceased.

"Well, yes, I shouldn't have put all that pressure on you at dinner, I shouldn't have left the way I did, and I should have said something—"

"No, Stephen, stop being so wonderful, you're NOT supposed to apologize!"

Stephen was taken aback by Meg's loud tone, and it sounded as if it alarmed Meg as well. "S-s-sorry," she murmured. "But you don't need to apologize, you shouldn't apologize, it was my fault, Stephen, I should have said something, I should have stood up for you and explained things, and I want you to know that I have, my mother knows everything, but..." her voice floated away, and Stephen could hear the worry in her tone. "I...I just...I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and...and perhaps, give me another chance?"

How he wished he was there by her side at this very moment. He would take her in his arms and hold her close, and then kiss her, just as he had always dreamed he would do. "Miss Giry...would you perhaps do me the honor of being my date the accounting office's Christmas party this Friday?"

Another pause filled the phone, but Stephen only smiled. He could tell, this time, that she was silent because he had surprised her, in what he hoped was a wonderful way.

"Stephen..." she whispered, causing the accountant to grin and blush at the same time. "I would be delighted to be your date."

It would be a simple affair, nothing dazzling like Meg's fashion show, and nothing as exciting or as romantic as the ballet...but that didn't matter. All that he cared about was being with her...and he hoped, especially after hearing her declaration tonight...that she felt the same way about him.

"She looks forward to it, Monsieur Dulane!" Antoinette's voice filled the earpiece.

"MOTHER!" Meg gasped.

"What? You weren't saying anything, I wanted to assure the nice gentleman—"

"Goodnight, Stephen," Meg murmured, bashfully, before turning on her mother and shouting at her for meddling and prying into other people's business, before the silence of the hung up phone filled his ear.

Stephen just smiled, before finally hanging up his own phone.

Indeed. They were a _couple_.

* * *

"Oh God," Christine groaned as she turned the key into the lock of her building door. "The man _can_ kiss," she moaned to herself, recalling the wonderful way he had held her, the wonderful way he had touched her, and the wonderful magic his lips had created upon her own. She loved it; she loved every single second of it…

But what did he think about her? What was he thinking right now!? She had wrapped her legs around him like a desperate, wanton…slut? Well, maybe he didn't think she was a slut, but she was sure he probably thought she was desperate! "I can't believe I acted like a horny teenager," she grumbled. "He's such a gentleman! And…and I _mounted_ him!" Her face turned red as she recalled the way she fell on top of him when they got into her apartment, and how she had _grinded_ her hips against his own…

_He did seem to like it though; can you deny that?_ Christine swallowed the lump in her throat as she recalled the very _physical_ proof that she…felt…when they were kissing. The tiny voice inside kept coming to her defense, screaming at her that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him, reminding her of the "caged tiger" reference that Meg had made that morning. _He is a gentleman…but even gentlemen have raging hormones…_

"I have to call him tomorrow," Christine sighed as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. "I have to call him and somehow make things right. Maybe _I_ should ask him out? Maybe I should—"

She paused…as she saw, taped to her door…a long stemmed red rose…with a tiny black ribbon tied around it.

Christine quickly went to her door and carefully removed the rose. "Erik…" she whispered, a smile blooming across her face as she softly touched the delicate red petals. Who else could it be? Her heart lifted, as she smelled the flower's sweet fragrance. He had been here, he had come back to her…and when he discovered that she wasn't there, he left a sign of his presence, just for her.

There was also a thin, white piece of paper, rolled up and tied to the rose by the black ribbon. Christine quickly unlocked her apartment and stumbled inside, practically tripping over poor Rupert, but ignoring the cat's meows of annoyance, before collapsing upon her couch, flicking on a lamp…and unrolling the note.

_Christine—_

_I want to apologize for my behavior tonight. I fear that my actions tonight may have caused you think that my reasons for dating you are of a more Neanderthal nature. I am deeply attracted to you, and when I told you that I have been longing to kiss you since the day I met you, I meant it. Tonight, I truly believed I was in heaven when I tasted your lips, and I didn't want that feeling to end. But my feelings for you go far beyond physical attraction. There is something about you, Christine, that touches me deeply, that speaks to my heart in a way that no other person has ever done before. I know it may sound cliché, but it's true; when I am with you, I feel like I can truly be myself, and that all the things I worry about simply melt away. I know that your friend needed you tonight, and I understand your reasons for going. In fact, it only makes me admire you more. I pray, however, that we can see each other again, very soon, and put any embarrassment or misgivings that we may have behind us, and begin anew._

_I will call you tomorrow; that's a promise. Once again, I apologize, and I pray that things with your friend are better now. Sweet dreams, Christine. _

—_Erik_

Christine bit her lip, in order to keep a hold of her emotions. She hugged the note to her heart and smiled up at the ceiling, feeling such warmth wash over her. He had no regrets about their kiss; he told her that he thought she was beautiful, he told her that…that he liked her!

"And I love him…" she whispered to herself. "I do, I love him!"

She reached up and turned off the light, deciding to stay there for the night. She could still smell his fragrance upon the couch...

As she leaned back, she imagined his handsome masked face, leaning over her, and gently pressing his lips to hers. Her whole body tingled at the memory, from the tips of her toes up to the hairs on her head. She could hardly wait to hear his voice again, to have another date with him.

And now that she knew that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him…there would be no more second thoughts.

She loved him with her whole heart, her whole being…and the next time Erik Henri was in her presence? She would _show_ him…


	21. Good and Bad Surprises

_Hi everyone! I'm back! Oy vey, what a hellish month and half life has been! I have been bogged down with tons of work and trying to meet all sorts of different deadlines, that I haven't had any time to sit down and write a good chapter to any of my stories...till now. FINALLY I am updating **"Date Phantom"** and hope within the next week or so to update my other stories as well. Work is still crazy, don't get me wrong, I'm not out of the deep end yet, but I miss writing, and I truly hope you enjoy this chapter!_

_And I want to apologize for not writing back those of you who wrote me. When I get this bogged down, I forget to check my email, but I apologize still and hope that I have not caused you any major worry. Thank you for your support and encouragement and for hanging in there with me. You're the best readers a writer could ever hope for! And without further ado..._

* * *

**Summary: **The day after their infamous evening brings both worries and questions to Erik and Christine, not to mention an unexpected fight with a new friend, a missed phone call, and an interesting arrangement for their upcoming date!

**Erik, the "Date Phantom"**

**_Good and Bad Surprises (of an Unexpected Nature)_**

On previous occasions when Christine had come into work after a date with Erik, she seemed to have floated into the office, or at least that would be how her coworkers described her entrance. Brian half expected that sort of entrance when he watched Christine come around the corner, heading towards her cubicle, but instead of heavenly floating, he saw a woman who looked…nervous? Well, perhaps nervous wasn't the best description. Anxious? Yes, she did look anxious, that could not be denied. She certainly seemed more "grounded" than she had in the past. Brian rolled his office chair across the small bit of hallway that separated their cubicles, and stopped just outside hers.

"So…?"

Christine let out a long, shaky breath, as she turned away from her computer…or was it the phone that sat next to her computer? She turned away from her desk to face Brian, and put on a pleasant smile, although anyone could tell that she seemed distracted. "So?"

Brian frowned slightly, but quickly covered it up with a teasing grin. "So how did…last night go?"

A deep blush colored Christine's cheeks, and she quickly lowered her eyes, trying to make it look like she were typing in her password. "F-f-fine," she stammered, before swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, and mentally kicking herself. "Last night was wonderful, actually," she answered, lifting her face and smiling warmly, trying very hard to keep her blushing at bay.

Brian had been assigned to mentor Christine when she first came to the magazine. Immediately he found the young woman charming, and felt a fatherly affection towards her. He believed it was his duty to not only mentor and guide her in the ways of journalism, but also in the ways of life, particularly life in New York City. He did tease Christine often, but it was all meant in good fun and taste, he would never do anything to hurt her, and like any good father, he wanted to see her happy and with a man who was worthy of her. And based on what he knew and had seen about the men in Christine's past, he wanted to make sure that the next man who stepped up to the plate, was not only worthy of her, but worthy to be called a human being.

And while Brian had not met this man, if he hurt Christine in any way, shape, or form…

"Oh!"

Brian jumped when Christine jumped at the sound of her phone. She glanced down at it and bit her lip; she didn't recognize the number, but that didn't mean it wasn't Erik! The letter he had romantically left on her door, with the lovely red rose attached, told her that he would call her, in fact he had underlined his promise to call her! Was this him now? Perhaps calling from some unknown location? Did she know his cell phone number?

"Are you going to answer that?" Brian asked, eyeing the phone, and his friend, somewhat suspiciously.

Christine's face darkened at Brian's words. She gave him a look, before turning her back on him and picking up the phone. With a deep breath, and a quick, silent prayer, Christine answered. "Hello, Christine Davis speaking…"

"CHRIS!"

Christine's heart fell as she heard Meg's happy, and ecstatic voice fill her ear, rather than Erik's rich, warm baritone.

"Hey, you sound chipper," Christine murmured, putting a smile on for her friend. "Where are you?"

"Shopping…with my mother of all people," Meg laughed.

Christine's eyes widened. Things did seem to be going well between mother and daughter when she left Meg's apartment, but she hadn't realized they were going _that_ well.

Antoinette's heavy French accent could be heard in the background. "No! No, no, no! I don't want it in blue! I told you, pink! It clearly compliments my daughter's complexion!"

Christine frowned. "What's going on?"

"Mother is arguing with a store employee. She insisted that we go out shopping this morning, to find me a new dress for Stephen's Christmas party."

Christine couldn't help but gasp with surprise. "You're going to a party with Stephen?"

Meg giggled happily. "I called him last night, after you had left. I apologized for my behavior, but he doesn't resent me at all! He wants to go out again, and he's invited me to be his date at the accounting firm's Christmas party, this Friday!"

"Idiot!" Antoinette spat in the background, clearly shouting at whoever the poor employee was. "I said PINK! That is not pink! You think I am blind? You think I do not know my color pallet!? That is clearly fuchsia, and all I am asking for is PINK!"

"I better go," Meg hissed into the phone. "Before Mother kills that poor man."

More irritated shrieking could be heard in the background, as Antoinette began swearing in French.

"Call me later, ok?" Meg asked, before turning her head away from the phone to try and calm her mother down.

"Sure," Christine answered, hoping that Meg could hear her. "And congratulations…on you and Stephen patching things up."

"Thanks," Meg answered, although it sounded as if things were getting worse, and she had to hang up before saying anything more. Christine sighed and shook her head, before hanging up the receiver, feeling happy for her friend, but feeling a little envious that Meg had had the opportunity to mend everything with the man she loved…while she, Christine, had not yet spoken to Erik since before she left for Meg's apartment. Yes, she had Erik's letter, and it was a wonderful letter, but…she longed to hear his voice again…

"I take it, that wasn't the call you were hoping for?"

Christine jumped, forgetting that Brian was still there. She plastered a smile onto her face before turning and facing him. "That was Meg, and actually I was expecting her to call, or drop by, and let me know how things went last night…" she decided not to reveal anything further to Brian, and turned to face her computer screen, to make it look like she was going to attempt to get some work done.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that Meg sounds 'chipper'," Brian smiled, but his eyes were filled with concern as he looked upon his friend. "Listen, Chris, I know I tease you a lot, but I want you to know—"

"Good morning Miss Davis!"

Both Brian and Christine looked up to see a wide-eyed and smiling Laura, her eyes sparkling from behind her glasses, her red hair rebelling against the ponytail she had attempted to put it in. Christine had practically forgotten about their newest intern…who had been responsible for giving her that Thanksgiving cold.

"Good morning to you too, Laura," Brian smiled, rising from his chair to shake the young woman's hand. Laura grinned, her smile beaming brightly. "I must say, you look awfully…" he glanced at Christine out of the corner of his eye. "Chipper, this morning."

Christine gave Brian a look, but quickly put on a smile when Laura giggled. "Do I? Well…I can't help it! I love New York! I love working here, and…" a dreamy sigh escaped her lips as she gazed out a nearby window. Was it Christine's imagination? Or was there something…or should she say, _someone_, else that Laura seemed to love?

"Did you have a pleasant Thanksgiving holiday?" she asked, turning back from the window and smiling brightly at both of them.

Brian glanced at Christine. "As pleasant a holiday as one can have with a cold…"

Laura's smile faded instantly. "Oh gosh! No!" she looked back and forth between Christine and Brian, her eyes wide with horror. "I…I didn't…did I?"

Christine glared at Brian, who was biting his lip to keep from grinning. "Colds happen, Laura, don't worry about it, and to answer your question, yes, I did have a pleasant Thanksgiving, as did Brian," she stomped on his foot then, and Brian immediately winced, but nodded his head, now biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain. "I could use some coffee, what about you Laura?" Christine turned and led the way, smiling to herself as she heard Brian let out a whimpering moan.

Laura did follow, although now she looked absolutely horrified that she had passed her cold onto the very woman she admired. "I'm so sorry, Miss Davis, truly, I—"

"It's not your fault, don't be silly," Christine shushed the girl. They entered the staff lounge, and Christine immediately began pouring herself a cup of coffee. She glanced at Laura out of the corner of her eye and noticed that while the girl was still nibbling on her lip, looking somewhat ashamed…there was still that dreamy look in her eyes. "I trust you had a pleasant holiday?"

Laura snapped her head back in Christine's direction. "Oh! Oh yes, it was very nice to see my family…and I told them all about _New York Chique_, and meeting you, and…just how wonderful this city truly is…"

Something was clearly up with the girl. It seemed as though Laura were the one floating on cloud nine!

"I didn't see you in the office yesterday…although I was rather…preoccupied…" she groaned as she recalled Antoinette's sudden appearance the day before, and how she and Brian had spent the entire morning, playing witness to her and Meg's argument.

"I too was busy, actually," Laura murmured, blushing deeply. "I um…I wanted to get my work done, so I didn't leave my own desk until it was time to go home…and I did leave a little earlier than normal…I hope that's alright?"

Christine smiled and took a sip from her mug. "So long as you get your work done, that's all that really matters. And trust me, sometimes you have to get out of this place in order to get _any_ work done!"

Laura giggled, but her expression soon grew very serious. She looked around, taking note that no one else was approaching the staff lounge, and then rushed towards Christine, her voice a low whisper. "I saw _him_ again!"

Christine's brow furrowed with confusion. "Saw who?"

Laura blushed deeply, but continued smiling. "Him! The man I told you about? The one who I met at the Chinese restaurant, who invited me to join him for dinner, just before I went home for Thanksgiving?"

"Oh! Oh yes, him, I remember," Christine murmured, recalling Laura's tale about the handsome stranger who had kindly offered her his umbrella on that fateful, rainy night. "What about him?"

Laura only grinned more. "I saw him again last night!"

So that explained the dreamy looks. "Let me guess…at the Chinese restaurant?"

Laura blushed and couldn't help but giggle. "Guilty as charged!"

Christine joined in the younger woman's laughter, although something inside her, the knowledgeable Happy Single, told her that something wasn't right. Whoever this mysterious, handsome stranger was, he certainly seemed to have his frequent hideaways, much like a predator, who always returned to the same watering hole…

"Anyway, I just…I don't know, I just had this feeling that maybe I would run into him there, and so I left work early, rushed home, cleaned myself up, hurried to the restaurant…and there he was! And do you know what he said to me?"

Christine had several ideas, but she shook her head, allowing Laura to tell her story.

"He said…'I had a feeling I might find you here…and I was hoping I would be right'…" she let out another sigh, and leaned back against the counter, her hands folded and clasped against her chest, as if in prayer, her eyes fluttering shut as she smiled. "And then we had dinner together…and just talked and talked and talked until they had to close…"

Christine's brow furrowed with discomfort. Something wasn't right…

"So…he was just…waiting there for you? He wasn't eating, he was just sitting there, waiting on the off chance that you might stop by?"

Laura's eyes snapped open and turned to face Christine, her smile fading at the other woman's questions. "I…w-w-well, yes, I know that's what it looks like—"

"It looks creepy, Laura, that's what it looks like," Christine muttered, before taking another sip from her mug.

Laura's face fell even more at Christine's words. "I…I…I t-thought what he said was very romantic…"

"What he said was exactly what you wanted to hear, the guy sounds like a classic womanizer, a man who views seduction as an art form and who makes a profession at wooing unsuspecting girls, filling their ears with romantic phrases in order to hide the fact that they are stalking you! I mean, so far, the two of you have only met in the same location! When he invited you out to dinner, you had it there at the restaurant! All your meetings have been at the restaurant! Don't you find it strange that the guy hasn't done anything else, much less taken you anywhere else—"

"Miss Davis," Laura interrupted. Christine was surprised to see the change in the young woman. The admiration that once filled her eyes when she looked upon Christine was gone completely now, replaced by something else. "I appreciate your concern, after all, I believe your advice to single women is most helpful and empowering, yet if I may say so, I believe you are in the wrong."

Christine was taken aback by Laura's reproach. "I am?"

"Indeed," Laura looked at her straight in the eye, and Christine felt a distinct chill. "Both you and I have been hurt by men in the past, so I can understand where your resentment towards the male gender comes from, but I am starting to believe that you have bought into the feminist cliché that all men are bastards."

Christine felt as if someone had slapped her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out.

"Or perhaps you have been writing a singles advice column for so long, that you have forgotten about the joy of being in a romantic relationship?" her eyes narrowed as she looked upon Christine. "Or maybe you want everyone to suffer and feel as miserable as you do, so you can better sell your single propaganda?"

"That's harsh, Laura," Christine managed to get out, after finding her voice. "And if I offended you, I am sorry, but you _should_ take some advice from someone who not so long ago, was in your shoes, arriving in a big city that held many possibilities…as well as many dangers. I know men like your Mr. Wonderful, men who prey upon women using tricks and words just as he used, and yes, I suppose it is unfair to assume he is like them, but it is good advice to take, especially from someone who you _know_ is only thinking of your well being."

Laura stiffened her spine and began to back away from Christine. "I thank you for that advice, Miss Davis," she icily replied. "But I kindly ask that you refrain from dispensing any further advice my way. If I am in need of it, I know exactly what page to look up in any past issue of _New York Chique_."

Christine watched as Laura turned on her heel and stalked away, her red ponytail bobbing behind her.

What had just happened? One moment Laura was all smiles and giggles, and the next…

"Oh God…" Christine groaned, hanging her head and rubbing her temples. Laura's words were harsh; they had cut deeply, as they were meant to, but Christine couldn't bring herself to blame the girl. How would she feel if the situation were reversed? How would she feel if someone she knew and even admired, said such things about Erik? She would hate it! And was Laura right? Was Christine simply making a bad judgment call, based on past experiences, and unfairly assuming this guy was a jerk?

_All men are bastards…_

They weren't, of course. Brian was a good guy, as were some of her other male coworkers. Stephen Dulane was proving to be wonderful, Meg even referred to him as her "Prince Charming"! And then there was Erik…her noble gentleman, the man who apologized for giving in to what she hoped were his own pent-up passions, passions that very much matched her own feelings…

"Chris?"

Christine jumped at the sound of Brian's voice. She quickly wiped her face, surprised to realize that a few tears had fallen, before finally turning to face her friend. How long had he been standing there? She wasn't sure, but she couldn't help but notice the concerned look in his eyes.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, just getting some coffee," Christine lied, before grabbing her mug and moving past her friend before he could question her further.

Brian, however, didn't give up on the subject. "I just saw Laura, she looked…upset, and I wasn't sure—"

"We had a slight disagreement, that's all, but everything's fine," Christine grumbled, not meeting Brian's eyes as she made her way back to her cubicle. He was one of the last people she wanted to talk to about her insecurities around members of the opposite sex. Brian had been a witness to many of Christine's botched boyfriends and bad first dates; that was probably when he began to take a more "paternal" role with her, trying to get to know these men, trying to judge whether or not they were "worthy" of her. Brian was always sure to never overstep his boundaries, and Christine knew it was because he cared for her that he insisted on meeting them, which explained his annoying insistence on meeting Erik.

However, while Brian knew about Christine's bad history with men, he was also worried about her going the other way, meaning that he was worried she would close herself off completely, and not allow anyone to get close to her.

Christine flumped down into her chair and tried to focus on her computer, hoping to just forget about everything that had transpired between herself and Laura, when she noticed out of the corner of her eye a message, lying atop her phone, in Brian's handwriting.

"What's this?" she asked, looking up at Brian, who was still hovering nearby, looking concerned. The message simply read "Friday, 7pm, Madison Square Garden".

"Oh! Oh um…that…w-well…" Brian's concern for Christine suddenly melted into concern for himself. He was smiling, but anyone could tell it looked forced, and somewhat sheepish…as if he were trying to look innocent. "While you were talking with Laura…your um…well, your phone rang…"

Christine's eyes immediately went wide, and she could feel the color drain from her face. _No…oh God, no, don't tell me I missed him!_ "Who…was…it?" Christine asked, trying her hardest to keep her temper.

"I…well…" Brian took a deep breath and prayed that because they were in the office, Christine wouldn't blow her top. "It was Erik."

"WHAT!?" Christine practically screamed, bolting upright out of her chair. Erik had called…he had called and she hadn't been there to answer it! "WHY DIDN'T YOU PUT HIM ON HOLD?! WHY DIDN'T YOU COME AND GET ME!?"

Brian was shrinking at every scream, and he kept glancing around, noticing how everyone had stopped what they were doing and looking at the two of them. "Chris, calm down, please—"

"OH! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!" she groaned, burying her face in her hands and muttering several more words, all of which were hard to understand, however the tone revealed what couldn't be heard. She finally lifted her head and glared at Brian. "What did you say…?" she growled, looking ready to launch herself at him if she didn't like what he told her.

Brian swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. "I…I told him y-you would be right back, but…but he said he had an appointment…a-a-and apologize for having to go…"

Christine's annoyed anger instantly dissolved at Brian's words. It was Erik who hung up? Erik who couldn't wait? _I'm sure he has a perfectly good reason, _Christine told herself. _He'll probably call again; don't go into a panic attack!_ But still, a part of her felt as if someone had splashed ice-cold water in her face. She couldn't deny that she was indeed shocked by Brian's revelation.

"He sounds like a decent guy," Brian murmured.

Christine gave Brian a look before collapsing once more into her chair. "So what does this mean?" she asked, pointing to the message that Brian had written down.

Brian smiled, but it was that sheepish smile he had been wearing earlier, and Christine noticed how he was slowly backing away. "Well…I…I um…" he cleared his throat and came right out with it. "After learning who he was, I immediately introduced myself and invited the two of you to join Susan and me this Friday at the Knicks game."

Brian didn't even have the chance to duck into his cubicle before Christine was on her feet and roaring.

"WHAT!?!?!"

After telling him over and over that the answer was "no", Brian went behind her back and invited Erik! She knew it was because Brian was eager to meet Erik, but she could not believe the invasion of privacy that he had conducted to do it! "HOW COULD YOU!? I TOLD YOU NO—"

"Erik liked the idea!" Brian quickly defended, lifting his hands as if to shield himself, should flames mysteriously escape Christine's mouth.

Christine, who had risen from her chair once more, and was advancing upon Brian, froze at the older man's words.

Erik liked the idea of going to a public, televised basketball game? But…she remembered how uncomfortable he seemed when they were out in public, particularly in unfamiliar places where there were lots of people. "Brian, I swear, if you're lying…"

"I'm not lying!" Brian defended again. "I swear, I'm telling the truth! I know, I know, you told me not to insist on it, but…I…I just thought…well, what better way for two guys to get to know each other than at a sports event?"

"This isn't YOUR date, Brian, it's MINE! And you had no right to do what you did!"

Brian sighed and looked down at the ground. "Ok, I know, I shouldn't have, but…after I mentioned it, he truly sounded keen on the idea! And wanted me to give you the details, that the four of us would meet outside Madison Square Garden, on Friday, at 7! Yes, I made the suggestion, but truly, it was _his_ idea! Honest!"

Christine was more confused than ever. Had she misjudged Erik? Maybe he went to Madison Square Garden all the time, maybe he loved basketball so much that he didn't care about being seen in public? Then a new idea struck her. "Brian, these tickets that Susan and you won, are they by any chance…in a box?"

"I wish," Brian joked. "But no, although thank heaven they're not in the nosebleed section. They're not courtside either, just…well, smack in the middle, I think."

Christine frowned. If they had a private box at the arena, then she could understand Erik's decision. But they weren't in a box, they were right in the middle of all those strangers!

_Maybe I have misread him, maybe I'm all wrong about him? Maybe I'm all wrong about men, period?_

"Chris?" Brian asked, noticing how Christine was hanging her head and rubbing her temples. "Chris, are you feeling ok?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, just…I have a headache, that's all," she muttered, before turning her back on her friend and collapsing in her own cubicle. Work was going to be impossible now; she could barely concentrate on anything but her silent phone, which quietly sat next to her computer. She stared at it for a long time, willing for it to ring, wanting to hear him so badly, especially after the mishaps of the previous night.

But other phones around her rang, and other voices spoke into them. Even Susan, Brian's wife, called, and she listened as Brian relayed the news that Erik and Christine would join the two of them on Friday. How she longed to have Meg there to talk to; how she longed to have Erik!

But despite her longing and her wishing, the phone remained silent, even as the minutes ticked into hours.

* * *

Erik hated it, in fact, he was hating it even more now as he was tapping his fingers upon his desk, and listening to the never-ending soft rock music that was playing on the other end of the phone. He glanced at his clock and felt his teeth clench as he took into account how long he had been on hold. If he had known this, he would never have dreamed of hanging up and not waiting to talk to Christine, something that he was dearly regretting now.

He had been thinking of her all night, in fact he hadn't been able to sleep since he had visited her apartment and left the note and the rose for her to find. A part of him was kicking himself over and over for not staying and waiting for her to return, but another part of him was telling himself that he had done the right thing, that if he had stayed, things would have felt awkward, especially after his bold behavior.

God, she had felt good in his arms. Despite the fact that he couldn't sleep, he laid upon his bed and stared up at the ceiling, replaying over and over everything that had happened, the feel of her body pressed against his, her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair, and he remembered every curve of her body, the sweet fragrance of her skin, and the even sweeter taste of her lips. He had been longing to kiss her since he had met her, and last night, it had finally happened!

However…he had not been planning on…well…_other stuff_, happening. Not that it did, of course. Meg's desperate phone call stopped anything further from happening, something which Erik both cursed and thanked the heavens above for. He wanted Christine, anyone could see that, God he wanted her so badly! But he hadn't touched a woman in ten years! It had been so long ago, Erik even found himself wondering if he remembered how to…well…

The image of Christine's sweet, naked body beneath his own, the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest, of her legs wrapping around his, of her fingers running down his spine, her head thrown back and her voice desperately crying for him to make love to her…

Shame it was only a fantasy, a dream that had been replaying many times over and over in his mind, both when he was sleeping and awake.

If they did make love…and he prayed that they would (and soon), he wanted to make sure it was at the perfect time. He didn't know a great deal about Christine's past, but he gathered based on little things she had told him, that it was not good, at least not when it came to men. He wanted to make her happy, he wanted to sweep her off her feet, and God above, he wanted to make her forget about all those other bastards.

He wanted her to fall in love with him…just as much as he had fallen in love with her.

And it was going to be difficult! After all, he highly doubted that any of Christine's past boyfriends looked like…well, to put it bluntly, "pulverized meat." But he had to remind himself over and over how…how _passionately_, she had kissed him back. That was not a fantasy, she had responded to his kiss, she had responded to his touch, and it truly seemed that she cared for him deeply!

But he wanted to do more for her, and when he briefly spoke to her coworker on the phone, he truly thought he had found a way to do just that. So he hung up after briefly talking with Brian, the idea still fresh in his mind, even though a part of him was screaming that this whole idea was crazy! He was extremely self-conscious when amongst crowds of people, and he would be even more so, in an arena surrounded by rowdy sports fans and television cameras.

Not to mention there was the possibility that she would hate him for what he was attempting to do…

But it was something she had always dreamed about, something she wanted to conquer, something that he believed the world needed to hear…and if, in the end, it put a smile on her face, even for the briefest moment…then it would be worth all the embarrassment and discomfort he would feel in such a crowded place.

"Hello, Mr. Henry? Thank you for holding," came the lazy voice of a woman who sounded anything but thankful.

"It's _Henri_," Erik corrected, trying to control his temper. He had been holding for nearly an hour! "And I hope that you were able to find some answers for me—"

"Yeah, I spoke with my boss," the woman mumbled, not seeming to care that she was being rude. "I don't think this is going to work, Mr. Henry. We have a schedule to maintain, one that is made months in advance, and we can't allow every man to put his girlfriend—"

"How much?" Erik was gripping the edge of his desk, trying desperately to hold his temper in check. He had waited for an hour, he had hung up before speaking with Christine; they were not getting rid of him that easily.

The woman groaned, obviously annoyed that this conversation was continuing. "It's not a matter of money, Mr. Henry…"

That was a load of bullshit. "Whom do you have on schedule, then?" he growled.

The woman did not seem to realize that she was treading on dangerous ground. "I can't disclose that information, sir, I'm sorry—"

"Like hell you are," Erik muttered. "Is there someone else I can talk to? Your superior perhaps?"

He could hear her rolling her eyes. "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Mr. Henry—"

"IT'S _HENRI!"_ Erik shouted into the phone, his temper completely gone now. "AND IF YOU DON'T ANSWER THE QUESTIONS THAT I HAVE ASKED, _OR_ GIVEN ME WHAT I BELIEVE ARE SUFFICIENT ANSWERS, THEN I WILL TAKE A TAXI TO YOUR OFFICE, AND BANG ON YOUR DOOR UNTIL EITHER YOU ANSWER, OR SECURITY DRAGS ME AWAY!" his voice lowered then to a dangerous level. "And I really wouldn't recommend that you do that…"

The answer that Erik received was the sound of the phone being hung up. He groaned and ran his hands through his hair, before gripping the elastic bands of his mask and flinging the cursed item from his face. Fine…so that was how it was going to be? Very well...

* * *

"Amy! Amy, get in here!"

Amy, the receptionist who had hung up on a crazy man with a confusing last name, entered her boss' office, looking annoyed that she was being dragged away from the game of solitaire that she was playing on her computer. "Yeah?"

A man with a brown moustache and beard looked up at the young receptionist, his face frowning deeply. "I just got off the phone with Ms. Rossum's agent; she's pulled out of Friday night's appearance!"

Amy didn't see what the big deal was. "Ok, so we'll go down the list and get that kid who came in second place on _American Idol_—"

"Ms. Rossum's agent told me that the reason she canceled was because she was deeply upset with how we wouldn't consider the request of an…" he looked at the piece of paper he had written the message on. "Of an Erik Henri…does that name sound familiar to you?"

Amy's face paled momentarily, before she rolled her eyes skyward and let out a long groan. "The guy's a nut job—"

"That may be, but whatever he is, he's someone who obviously has high connections and great influence! And the last thing I need is our name sullied because you couldn't be bothered to listen to the man's requests properly!"

"He wanted to get his girlfriend—"

"Yes, yes, I know," her boss groaned with a wave of his hand. "I know all about that…but did you, Amy, know that he was willing to double the price that we were going to pay Ms. Rossum? DOUBLE!"

Amy folded her arms in front of her. "He never said anything about the amount of money—"

"Just get out of my office," her boss snapped, waiving his hand to shoo her away and rolling his eyes, wishing that the girl was not related to the owner of the New York Knicks; this was not the first time she had caused problems for his office. He immediately dialed the number that was left for him, hoping that the man was at home, and summoning his patience as he waited for someone to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hello! Mr. Henri? Yes, this Michael, I'm the—"

"I know who you are and why you're calling," Erik finished, his tone cold, but open to reason. "I trust you received my message?"

"Yes, yes sir, I spoke with Ms. Rossum's agent just a few minutes ago, who explained everything, and may I say, this was all just one, big, misunderstanding, and I apologize deeply for the incompetence of my staff—"

"Yes, yes, thank you very much, but all I want to know is if it's possible to have Miss Davis take Ms. Rossum's place this Friday?"

Erik Henri was a man that didn't waste time! "Yes! Oh, yes sir, that won't be a problem at all!" the man immediately picked up a pencil and began writing Christine's name down on a piece of paper. "I'm penciling her name in as we speak, Mr. Henri."

"Good," Erik muttered. "I'll mail you the check later this week."

"Oh, thank you sir," the man murmured, trying to sound honored, as if he were receiving a generous donation, to cover up the greed in his voice. "And if there is anything that I or my staff can do for you—"

"I wouldn't trust your staff to pick up my dry cleaning, sir," Erik growled.

The man swallowed the lump in his throat, imagining this powerful man that had celebrity connections and arm loads of money to throw here and there all in the name of his girlfriend. "I…I um…I hope that you will also extend my good wishes to Ms. Rossum, when next you speak with her?"

There was no answer, only the dial tone that greeted the man's ear.

In his apartment, Erik gazed at the hung-up phone and couldn't help but grin. He then picked up his cell phone and dialed Jonathon's number.

"Did it work?" Jonathon asked, knowing it was Erik the second the phone rang.

"Like a charm," Erik grinned. "You really must remind me to thank Wendy for her connections to the Broadway crowd."

"I don't know if that's so much her, or the theater company she works for. But in her line of work, she does meet a lot of stars…and their agents."

"True," Erik agreed. "We're just lucky that Ms. Rossum is a romantic, and was willing to believe my story."

Jonathon couldn't help but laugh. "We're also lucky that you have a former client in the custodial office at Madison Square Garden who can hack into their computer system and get the list of names on their schedule!"

"Indeed," Erik nodded his head, making a mental note to send Jerry a thank you gift later.

"So, it's all coming together then," Jonathon grinned, trying to imagine his friend who loathed crowds, in a place like Madison Square Garden. "She must mean a lot to you…"

Erik felt his face burn, but he couldn't help but smile. "She does," he murmured, more to himself perhaps, than to Jonathon.

_I love her_.

However, he wasn't prepared to tell Jonathon _that_ intimate a detail about his feelings for Christine.

"So, do the two of you have any dinner plans for that evening?"

"No, according to her coworker, we're all just meeting at the Garden right before the game starts."

"Great!" Jonathon grinned. "That means the two of you can come to our house for dinner! What sort of food does she like? Even if Wendy doesn't know it, she'll figure out some way to cook it!"

Erik's smile vanished at his friend's invitation. It was one thing to spend his date with Christine's friends…but to spend it with his as well? It just seemed a little too much…

"Jonathon, I appreciate the offer, but—"

"Oh come on, buddy! Wendy and I are your closest friends, your first successful couple! Don't you think that we deserve to meet the lucky lady, the woman who has stolen the Date Phantom's heart, the woman who possess such a power that Erik Henri is willing to go to crowded, public places, and make crazy phone calls, requesting the unthinkable—"

"ALRIGHT!" Erik shouted, groaning and running his fingers over his disfigured flesh. "Fine, I give up, you win. Christine and I will be there, at 5:30, Friday evening."

Jonathon just grinned. "I'll tell Wendy the good news. No doubt she'll start planning tonight," he laughed. "Alrighty! See you Friday!" and with that, Erik was left with the sound of the dial tone in his ear.

Two double dates in the same night. One with his friends, and one with Christine's. Erik bit his lip, wondering if perhaps he should call Jonathon back and cancel; maybe it was too much to take on? But then again, he had agreed to her own friend's suggestion about going to the basketball game, without even discussing the possibility with her! What if she didn't like basketball? What if she wanted to have a more private evening? Oh God, what if she hated him for what he was trying to arrange!?

But it was too late now. He only prayed that Christine didn't hate him; that she would understand that he was doing this to help her achieve those dreams she had mentioned to him on the night of their first, official date.

_I should call her back,_ he thought to himself. He hated having to hang up before talking to her, and he longed to hear her voice, especially now as he nervously remembered the previous night. He grabbed a hold of his phone and quickly dialed the numbers, drumming his fingers impatiently against his desk as he waited for someone to pick up.

"_New York Chique Magazine_, my name is Karen, how can I help you?"

"Hello again, Karen," Erik greeted the office receptionist warmly. Karen didn't know it, but he had given romance advice to her husband many months ago, which, according to several emails he had received, had strengthened…as well as spiced up, their marriage.

"Oh! Mr. Henri," Karen greeted back, giggling and blushing ever so slightly. "How nice to hear your voice again."

Erik smiled. "May I speak with Miss Davis?" His hopeful smile faded however, at the receptionist's words.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Henri, but Christine's gone home for the day."

"Gone home?" Erik asked, startled by Karen's revelation. He glanced at his watch, noting that it wasn't that late, and immediately his brow creased with worry. "Is she alright?"

"Well, she looked a little depressed, I must confess…" Karen sighed. "But she said everything was alright, that she only had a bad headache, and would work from home today. Do you want me to connect you with her voicemail?"

Erik was already rising to his feet and placing his mask back over his face. "Thank you, Karen, but no. I'll try to reach Miss Davis at home."

He didn't even wait to hear Karen's farewell; he was already pulling on his coat and heading out the door.


End file.
